


Gooey Ashes

by FeatheredMask



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Animal Death, Bed-Wetting, Blood, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Bugs & Insects, Character Death, Diabetes, Disability, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/M, Fluff, Gore, Gun Violence, Horror, Kidnapping, M/M, Medical Conditions, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Other, Sexual Abuse, Urination, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 62,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatheredMask/pseuds/FeatheredMask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ludwig expected to go to medical school. He never expected a flu outbreak to turn into something so dangerous. He certainly never expected to be the designated doctor of a ragtag group of classmates just trying to survive the zombie apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DONT OPEN DEAD INSIDE

It started slow. Not the kind of slow that lets you prepare. No, the kind of slow that went undetected, the kind where everyone was sure they'd have plenty of time. So why not put it off, let the rest of the world deal with it?   
   
The first to close were schools. With too many kids out sick and a high risk of contagion, schools closed for the rest of the foreseeable week, as they'd done with widespread bugs before. Confident the majority of kids would be bright and bubbly once more by the end of the month.   
   
With kids away from a main source of information - away from society - few bothered to look beyond the evening news on biased forecasts full of blue-eyed blondes. Riots in other parts of the world received vague mentions. Vines and YouTube videos spiked in the supernatural and horror genres. Independent reporters on Twitter put out a cry of what was going on, but of course, no one on the internet ever changed the world.

* * *

 

  
"C'mon, Lud! It's not like anyone's gonna get us in trouble! What's Vati going to do? Ground us?"   
   
"You shouldn't say things like that," Ludwig sighed, getting out of the car to follow his laughing brother. With their father hospitalized, they'd be taking care of themselves until further notice. He sped up when that laugh choked.   
   
"I'm okay! The awesome me will never be defeated!" Gilbert assured him, stumbling and righting himself. He pulled at his jacket, looking down to find what he'd tripped over. "Aha!" he proclaimed, scooping it up to hold it up to silhouette against the sun. "Hammer, you shall pay for tripping the awesome me!"  
   
"Gil, stop waving that around," Ludwig groaned, snatching the tool from his brother’s hand, holding it high above where the older couldn’t reach. "That's dangerous, you have no idea how balanced or attached the end is-"   
   
Ludwig raised an eyebrow at Gilbert's sudden tensing, watching those red eyes go wide. "What is it?"  
   
Gilbert sucking in a breath, and hissed, "The hammer, Lud. The hammer. There's blood on that thing."   
   
Ludwig dropped the tool as if it had caught fire, trusting his brother too much to risk it.  
   
Gilbert barked another laugh. "You fell for it! You actually believed that! Shit, bloodied hammer - that’d be fucked up!"  
   
Ludwig scowled, shooting a wary check to the rusty tool. His face lit bright red. "I could have dropped it on my foot," he retorted. "That's not funny!"

“Is too!” Gilbert called over his shoulder, already heading across the deserted parking lot. Gum dotted much of the black tar, a few mechanical pencils scattered around, half-finished cigarettes stomped down. He kicked away a tampon applicator, watching it bounce up onto the curb and under the metal fence.

“Gilbert...” Ludwig sighed, shaking his head. A stickler for the rules, his older brother was not. Nevertheless, he went after Gilbert, and followed him over the fence with a grunt. He frowned, watching his brother saunter past the bolted down picnic tables to the doors. “You know those doors don’t open from the outside...” He trailed off, Gilbert grinning all too smugly as the doors opened with a simple push. He sighed. “Why do I bother?”

The door closed with little sound behind them, cushioned well on recent costly renovations. Shut inside where the gentle spring breeze couldn’t reach them, Ludwig wrinkled his nose, grimacing in disgust. Sure, it was a school--he expected it to smell bad, but it must have been closed long enough for him to forget what it was like.

Sickness clung to the air, thick and heady. He waved a hand in front of his face, fanning away the worst of it, walking after his skipping brother. Hormones, hair spray, and Axe deodorant tinted the walls, collecting in what many students lovingly referred to as eau de ass. Today, and the few short days before schools closed for health safety, sweat, vomit, pus, and digestive distress was the scent of the afternoon. The smell of disease.

From the looks of it, Gilbert wasn’t as bothered as Ludwig--or perhaps he just hid it better. Or it was a greater tolerance to those kinds of things. He didn’t doubt that his brother had flooded the locker bays with an overdose of Axe more than a few times in their years here. The older brother belonged in a group of tricksters proudly bragging the title of the Bad Touch Trio, while the younger kept to his studies.

“You could’ve volunteered at the hospital,” Gilbert goaded him, his voice carrying like the step of their boots on the linoleum floors. “I thought you wanted to be a pre-med!”

“I don’t have any training. I’d get in the way. Besides, who would keep you out of trouble if you’re home alone?”

For Ludwig, fun and friends came secondary to schoolwork, responsibilities, and family. He had passing acquaintances with classmates, polite and to the point where no one tried to get very close to him. Kiku, the Japanese classmate who tended to speak soft and flat, he considered a friend. He enjoyed their small exchanges and silent working in the same area. They sat together at lunch, usually in quiet unless another acquaintance decided to join them. Often, this was the Trio.

Ugh, that trio of friends. Ludwig sighed just thinking about them. They made him feel like an old man waving a cane at them yelling to get off his lawn. Individually, they weren’t so irksome. Francis had his good points, most pointedly being the most mature of any of them--when he wasn’t flipping girls’ skirts, anyway. Antonio sometimes popped up for little reason at all, hanging around him and talking like they’d been friends for much longer than with his brother. Aiming to go into medicine, Ludwig viewed the diabetic Spaniard as an invaluable fountain of practical experience.

The third member....well, Gilbert was his brother. Ludwig would be lying if he said he wasn’t biased.

Case in point. Ludwig jerked his head in the direction of a series of clangs and bangs. Seeing his brother bashing down a row of lockers with someone’s lost phone was little cause for alarm, if a headache. He groaned, and shouted above the din, “Do you have any idea of the damage you’re causing?”

“It’s a Nokia, Lud!” Gilbert shot him a grin, turning around to continue his way down, just backwards. “These things are like bricks, it’s not gonna get a single scratch!”

Ludwig sighed, dragging his hand over his face in exasperation. The clanging stopped. Gilbert stalled in a dark section of the school, sunlight from the copious windows along the walls unable to reach so far.

Ludwig came to stand beside Gilbert, and scoffed. They stood in front of the doors to the band room, metal doors guarding one of the only rooms large enough to accommodate the large class and their instruments. Someone had taken red spray paint to it, and in messy, dripping letters.

**DONT OPEN DEAD INSIDE**

Ludwig snorted at the graffiti message. Beside him, he heard Gilbert gulp. He glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re scared of this? Really? Isn’t this from The Walking Dead, in, what was it, the first episode?”

Gilbert choked a forced laugh. “J-ja, what a throwback. Listen, Lud,” he changed his tune, turning away from the door. “We should get going, get dinner started, get working on those packets the teaches gave us-”

Ludwig shook his head, a rare grin coming on his own face at his skittish behavior. “Gil, it’s nothing,” he interrupted. “It’s a joke. Zombies aren’t going to jump out and attack us if we open the door.”

“You don’t know that,” Gilbert defended, eyes wide, shooting glances at the door. Ludwig had to keep himself from laughing; he was actually whispering, thinking something would hear them. “We need to get out of here, A-sap.”

Ludwig chuckled, even more so as his brother flinched when he took another step forward. The smell of stale sweat was stronger here; no surprise, considering how this was the band room, full of people dressed in heavy uniforms lugging around metal instruments half the time. "There’s nothing to be afraid of," he repeated. "I'll show you."

Someone had tied the doors shut with a combination of zipties, duct tape, and a metal bar. Ludwig took off the bar, and Gilbert swiped it from his hands before he could toss it on the ground, holding it like a baseball bat, ready to defend himself from the horrors trapped inside. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes, snapping the ties with a few sharp yanks in just the right way. Then he picked at the duct tape, unraveling it from the door handles.

The doors thumped a few times from his pulling. He could’ve sworn he heard a music stand fall over inside.


	2. The Boy Who Cried Zombie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content: Zombies and Francis's intro

**Gooey Ashes**

He could’ve sworn he heard a music stand fall over inside. He wasn’t sure. Finding out the exact origin of the sound didn’t top his list of priorities when a horde of _things_ burst screaming and clawing from the band room. 

In hindsight, he should have brought a gun. Or two. But you never just so happened to have a gun on you when your brother decided to go on a romp through your high school. Perhaps, in _further_ hindsight, he should have registered for a concealed weapon license. But, then again, Ludwig didn’t know the first thing about guns. He may have had some on his arms, but, he was loathe to admit it, he didn’t want to feel flesh and blood crunching under his fists. 

Logic and a drive to protect overran the instinct to freeze up and scream. Ludwig sprang into action, years of his father’s military-style drilling finally giving practical results, knocking a frozen Gilbert out of the lunge of a gray attacker. They skidded on the floor, sweat and stale grime grasping onto Gilbert’s jacket. The younger brother’s collision was cushioned by the other, lending to quicker recovery time. 

A grunt, a crunch, too close for comfort, Ludwig jumped to his feet with haste he hadn’t seen in his daily suicide sprints. Grabbing Gilbert’s arm, he yanked him along, not hearing his yells over the moans and screeches of whatever was after them. It as with a single-track mind he raced through the maze-like hallways. Sickening splats and suctioning noises rammed on their tail. 

“The fence!” Gilbert’s shout came like a faint echo to him. “Jump the fence!”

This wasn’t a time for questioning. Trust would have to do. 

The two zipped around the tables set out in the student lounge. Ludwig wasted a precious few seconds pulling open the heavy door, crashes of tall tables and tall chairs upended, and Gilbert skittered past him into the sunlight. They both scrambled to the end of the small picnic area, their minds on the goal of getting over that metal fence. Ludwig landed in a barrel roll, knocking himself right onto the road. Gilbert wasn’t so lucky, landing on his hands and knees with a grunt, followed by a short stream of “fuck”s from the scrapes. 

“Gil!” Ludwig sprang up, running over to pull his brother to his feet. They skittered away from the fence, but slowed. Mouths agape, they stared. 

People. Students, from the school uniform. They had the markers of the flu virus - heavy breathing, drooping bloodshot eyes, grey pallor, the sweat matting their hair to their foreheads. Exaggerated symptoms, worse than their father was that morning. Ludwig covered his face with his sleeve, grimacing. It was the smell of disease from earlier, this time stronger, feeling like it came from the clawing students trapped behind the fence in waves. The students didn’t seem to realize they could climb, instead trying to reach through the gaps between the wire, biting at the metal like animals. 

The groaning captured Ludwig’s attention. “O, Gott, they’re in pain,” he moaned, as Gilbert claimed, “Scheisse, Lud, I told you. Zombies. Gott, zombies!”

Ludwig nearly smacked him. “Are you serious?” he snapped at him, looking at him with disgust. “These are real people, Gilbert! Our classmates, kids with actual friends and family who must be worried sick about them! And you have the gall to make a zombie joke?”

Gilbert raised his hands in front of him, stepping back in alarm. “Whoa, hey,” he chuckled; a nervous mannerism. “Did you not just see those things attack us?”

He snarled at his brother. “They’re delusional,” he spat. “Delirious. They don’t know what is going on. You went rambling on about playing in a baseball game when you got your wisdom teeth out, we didn’t call you a zombie then. Be a decent human being and give these people that same respect!”

“Lud, Lud. Lud.”

He kept going. “We need to call 911, get an ambulance over here, get them to a hospital where they can be treated.”

“Lud.” This time, Gilbert grabbed his hand. Slowly, his voice shaky, he said, “We can call an ambulance.” He added stipulations: “But, you have to make it from the car, and we’re driving out of here as soon as you get a hold of someone. I’m not staying here any longer than I have to. Less than that.”

“I...” He hesitated, then gave in with a nod. “Ja, that’s acceptable.”

Gilbert wasted no time dragging them both to the car, keeping an eye on the ill students, no matter the little flinches and squeaks he made whenever one of them moved too suddenly. He took the driver’s seat, clicking in the keys to start the car, and buckling in at Ludwig’s pointed stare. 

“Hello? I need an ambulance...” 

Gilbert tapped his fingers impatiently on the wheel as Ludwig made the call, and snapped up, “Great! We’re going grocery shopping,” as soon as he hung up. Before his brother could question the impulse decision, the car was speeding across the parking lot, the squeal of the tires from rough turns and ill-timed brakes drowning out the immediate protest.

 

O, America! Land of the free, and home of the-

“Aïe! Don’t you dare move that sculpture! Ma mère spent more than you earn in a year to have a professional carve that ice, and I will not be lenient if it is chipped before la fête!”

-overbearing French teenagers with more money than they know what to do with.

The terrace buzzed with activity, filled with prim-and-proper butlers and maids dressed the part. Gardeners pruned and clipped at bushes and hedges, uprooted last-minute weeds and filled in the holes with only the best, brushed through the tulips and roses for any upkeep needed. Ice sculptures littered the area on grand pedestals and delicate tables. Delicacies waited just inside, kept cool, prepared to be set out the moment guests arrived. Lounge chairs by the pool. Plenty of cushioned chairs and love seats, but not too many. 

“Perfection,” Francis admired, complimenting himself. A plate with an array of drinks offered itself to him, and he plucked away the champagne flute to taste. He gave a throwaway glance to the servant. “Serve this champagne, mais, in a tulip glass,” he ordered, replacing the glass on the plate. “Pas la flûte. Don’t give any guest a flute. Our guests are high class, not middle class.”

First-born son to wealthy French parents gave Francis much to go for in life. He had it all--health, fortune, and the fame that came with being a budding name in fashion with connections. Parents that doted on him, servants to care for every one of his needs, and the money to buy anything he could plausibly have thought up. T’was a shame his parents had him go to public school instead of tutors, but it had the benefit of teaching him English through immersion. Friends had come with it all and although they weren’t the type his parents would approve long-term for networking, the close socializing and the fact they weren’t into anything illegal allowed him to keep tabs on them. 

However, no one cares about this long-winded, boring type of exposition. So we come back to Francis, lavishing in pride at orchestrating this high-end party. 

“Yo, Frannie!”

Fortunately, we don’t have to hear anymore ego-boosting bragging. 

Francis cringed - no, no, he didn’t cringe, cringing was not photogenic - Francis sighed in despair. He turned around just in time to see one of his best friends jump over an ice sculpture, giving him a brief heart attack, sending him straight to an early grave.

“Gil, qu’est-ce que tu fais?!”

So maybe I lied. Maybe the insufferable bastard didn’t die.

Gilbert bypassed the question, coming to a stop in front of Francis, and with wide eyes, announced, “The zombie apocalypse is starting!”

“Apocalypse..?” An exasperated sigh caught his attention, and Francis looked over his friend’s shoulder to see that the younger brother had been dragged along. Scruffy and sweaty, the two of them looked very out of place on the pristine terrace. “Any reason why you decided to come here, mere hours before my parents’ business party, to inform me of this news?”

“Yeah, you’re my best friend, and you’ve got the most supplies-” Gilbert stopped, his face falling to disbelief. “You don’t believe me. What the fuck, man!”

Francis gave him a withering glance. “We’re not exactly at Newton’s famed end-of-the-world 2060 yet, and you’re a few years late to the 2012 debacle... Excuses-moi for taking your words with a grain of salt. If you haven’t noticed, I’m busy, and don’t want anything to do with your antics today. I heard Toni’s spending the day with some of the lower classmen, go bug them.”

“Francis,” Gilbert grit the name between the teeth, but his eyes threatened tears. “Are any of your servants sick?”

“If they were, I should hope they stayed home,” Francis said dismissively. 

Gilbert nodded. “Stay safe these next few days. Keep your phone on you, and call me if anything happens. I’m serious.”

Francis waved them off, turning away to survey the progress. Gilbert turned and went back the way they came, Ludwig wanely following. “We’re grabbing Toni, and dragging him back home. Then we prepare.”

“Prepare?” Ludwig parroted. Then he sighed. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“You’re an awesome little brother. Okay, Toni’s probably with that one junior he dotes on. I think he’s got a twin, actually...” 

 

Lights out.

Gilbert had demanded the curfew as soon as sunset hit, even forbidding Ludwig from touching his phone. No lamps. No screens. No candles. No flashlights. He resigned himself to sitting on the couch in the dark, watching the last of the light outside the window, the curtains pushed slightly to the side. 

No lights, no sounds, and be ready to run at any moment. 

Those were the rules for tonight. To settle his brother’s nerves, Ludwig easily complied, fully dressed, not questioning Gilbert’s antics. Two backpacks had been gingerly filled with necessities, stuffed with water bottles, food, a few pairs of socks and underwear, and first aid supplies. A small bag of hard candies had been included as well, citing Antonio’s occasional lows. 

Of course, Ludwig went with all of it, even if a nagging voice in the back of his head insisted that if there really was an apocalypse coming, if they haven’t found Antonio by now, they weren’t going to find him at all. He still felt horrible when he recalled the grief-stricken expression on his brother’s face when Antonio’s mother got across, in broken English, and her son wasn’t home at the time. She hadn’t been able to tell where he’d gone, except that it was planned to be a couple places. Gilbert’s phone calls couldn’t get through either, voice mail full. Texts, so far, hadn’t been replied to. 

Blue eyes stared out over the expansive apartment lot, other windows turning out their lights as the night progressed. Ludwig politely turned his gaze away from one window, the shadows of two bodies coiled together projected on the curtains. A family came back home after a long day, the mother yawning as she tried to keep her two children together. A middle-aged man sat out on his balcony, swilling beer. All in all, normal. 

Casting his regard farther out, the road along the apartments leading to the bustle of stores was crowded, more so than just the stray car. More vans packed to the brim with necessities. Was it that close to vacation season? They must be taking advantage of the school closings. 

A gun shot echoed across the lot. A few lights turned on. Ludwig rolled his eyes. As normal.

In the bedroom, Gilbert fumbled with hooking a gun and its ammo to an old belt. He gulped, and allowed himself a whisper, “It’s starting.”


	3. Keep Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: guns, gore (screaming/explosions/falling/injuries), ableism (eugenics), implied animal death, some swearing.   
> No deaths in this chapter. Antonio and Lovino are introduced to the story.

Gooey Ashes

They say the world will go out not with a bang, but with a whimper.

The inhabitants of the apartment complex went out with not one, but many bangs. 

Screams piled up. Bangs ricocheted across the lot. Fragile items shattered, furniture thumped on the floors, and bodies made a sickening noise that couldn’t be erased from memory when they tumbled out of broken glass sliding doors. 

Ludwig stared in mounting horror as the atrocities grew just outside his window, until Gilbert pulled him away. He stared to fight, before seeing his brother’s grim expression. 

“Your eyes reflect light,” he explained. “We have to pretend we’re not here. With luck, nothing will come for us. We have to hide out until morning.”

Ludwig considered his options, a hard feat with all the chaos. Finally, matching his brother’s volume, he whispered, “Okay. We’ll wait.”

Waiting wasn’t as easy as the word implied. The two of them hoisted their backpacks full of supplies, being careful to muffle everything. The room closest to being a tornado shelter became their solace: the bathroom. It had just enough room for Ludwig to sit on the floor of the shower, and Gilbert rest of the toilet cover. Click the lock, then all the noise from them was their beating hearts and breathing. They covered their packs with towels, further muffling any sound. While their hearts thumped in their ears, their breathing was silent in the wake of all the moans, screams, and shooting outside. 

A thud reverberated against the wall Ludwig was leaning against, making him flinch. Gilbert looked in the direction of the ruffle of movement, squinting in the darkness. As it didn’t continue, and reminding himself that it wasn’t like any human being could tear through the thin wall, Ludwig relaxed against the wall again. He ignored the successive thuds, although his heart leaped to his throat with each one. 

Something scraped against metal. The sound of rushing water started, and suddenly, the wall behind him didn’t feel so solid anymore. Ludwig’s conclusion tumbled out of his mouth, “They found us.”

“What?” Gilbert scrambled to his feet, and opened the door, rumbling out into the thin streams of light coming from outside. It flickered, but then again, the quality of the electricity here was never the best. “What do you mean they found us!” Panic.

“They’re coming through the wall,” Ludwig hurriedly explained, neither of them paying much attention to their own noise as they scrambled to figure out where to run. 

Gilbert pulled his brother back from barreling out the hallway. “Not the front door!” Getting a skeptical glare, he elaborated, “Everyone’ll go for the hallway! It’ll be full of people, and where people are, zombies are!”

It was like a strategy video game tactic. Don’t meet the endless spawning enemy head-on if you don’t have a ridiculously high level. Go around if possible. No time to insist this wasn’t a video game, this was the real world! Two pairs of eyes went to the sliding balcony doors, artificial and star light illuminating it just enough. 

A bang on the front door decided it. A woman screamed, and the bangs turned to scratches. The brothers darted for the balcony, rushing to jiggle free the stuck doors and yank-- Stuck. A good kick dislodged it, but Ludwig didn’t miss the whimper right in his ear. 

The sharp nip of the wind prickled their skin, and they froze like icicles. Ludwig’s heart thumped in his ears. This was it. They were really going to do it. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with clouds of cold. Steeling himself, he grabbed the rail of the balcony, and swung himself over - 

Eyes closed, air whooshed past, pummeling his lungs to burning in an instant. Impact didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought it would, just a shock and a soreness like rope burn against his back. He was aware a grunt escaped him, but in that moment, he wanted nothing in the world to matter, nothing to be going on that had warranted this.

“Lud, Lud!” Someone shook his shoulder, then slapped his face. “C’mon, wake up! We gotta move!”

Ludwig pried his eyes open, blinking up at his brother. “How’d...” Shock still suppressed him. “How’d you get down?”

“Climbing. The drainage pipe that goes down next to our balcony, I climbed down that.” He hesitated, and added, awed in horrified amazement, “Gott, Lud, get up, you’re covered in blood...”

Blood? Ludwig checked over himself, finding yes, blood, but no cuts or scrapes. A squelching crunching came as he moved to stand. His stomach churned as he glanced behind him, finding he’d landed on an already heavily injured person, no doubt killing them from the force of his body landing on them. 

“Gott,” he echoed, stepping back and staring at the dark fluid smeared over his hands. “Gott, Gilbert, I killed a per-”

“No time,” Gilbert cut him off before he could get into the grief, grabbing his arm. “Move, move, move! Car, get to the car!” Ludwig stumbled at first, kicking something against his foot, then righted himself to catch up. 

Darting around the cars, trash furniture, bodies - it all filled the lot, and Ludwig barely had the chance to cover his mouth with everything happening so fast. Screams, bangs, tearing of something wet and soft, and the groans, O the groans! Permeated the once lazy and nondescript area, violence ripping at reality. 

The world felt fuzzy and out of sorts, Gilbert shoving him in one side of the car. The doors slammed shut. “Stay with me, Lud!” His throat felt hoarse. The key slammed in the engine, one hard boot slammed on the accelerator, the wheel screeched on the road. A bump-bump where there shouldn’t have been. 

The night road greeted them with sights that served to distress. Crashes and fires littered the sides of the asphalt, where panicked driving had met with unrelenting potholes and steep drops to flood basins. Bodies, some impossibly clinging to life to wheeze and twitch, some too far gone. Something moved, dragging a legless torso by the remaining hands, gasping for air to scream. A child choked on the fumes of a destroyed car, struggling to free himself from his seat belt. 

Ludwig counted his breaths. In for seven, hold for seven, out for seven. He tried not to linger on the acrid smell of gasoline and burning flesh he could just about taste. Didn’t want to identify it. At any other time, he’d scoff at the idea of wishing to ‘wake up’ and everything to be a dream, but right then, he sympathized with the sentiment. 

This was the kind of chaos to only happen on TV. On the news, on international channels, where cameras shot pictures and videos of war and the conditions of Syria and Gaza, of the injustices happening in exotic countries of Turkey and Afghanistan. The crimes that happened in Skid Row, Mexico, non-tourist Thailand, poor India. The aftermath of Haiti. 

One bored glance at the TV, and you’re done. Maybe have a home-cooked dinner while the terrorism blares as white noise in the same room. Desensitization. It never clicks that it could happen to you; that is, until it comes knocking down your door. 

\-----------

Lovino stared at the chaos around him, eyes darting at every little thing, unable to figure out which to focus on. “What-”

No one stopped to let him ask his question. They all ran past him, pushing past. A barrel-chested man shoved him to the ground in haste, and before he could get up, yelled out as a heavy boot stepped on his hand. The boot released, running, and Lovino scrambled to sit up and stand. 

He plastered himself to the side of a building, breathing labored from the panic in the air. People abandoned their cars, not trusting traffic to move fast enough, scrambling like bugs over each other in a desperate attempt to get ahead in the rush. 

Too much screaming. Babies wailed, more than there should have been in this chaos. Streetlamps and stores still did their duty of lighting up the streets, for the help that did. Store managers and employees had abandoned their posts, leaving shops gaping open for people to stuff garbage bags full of food or expensive trinkets, depending on if they looked concerned for their well-being or not. 

A window of a nearby pharmacy burst out shards of glass, a brick skidding on the pavement. He barely ducked away in time, feeling the pieces brush by his arm, his reaction leaving much to be desired. 

His back bumped against a signpost, and he scurried to press himself against the wall. People weaved around traffic, stumbling over themselves, pushing past anyone faltering. White-haired men and middle-aged women sat in their cars. Watching the passersby with a resigned boredom. Several children sat in their car seats, chewing on their fingers or watching the outside world with glazed eyes, waiting for their parents to come back and drive them home. Various dogs, most of the tiny, yapping variety, scratched at car windows, whining for their owners to let them free. Left out to die, Lovino realized. Die because they knew they couldn’t win in whatever race the rest of humanity was holding. 

Then, if Lovino wasn’t fleeing, would he die? Be killed by this eldritch horror that instilled so much fright? Death would come for him in a twisted sense of natural selection, killed by an unnatural force that gripped the hearts of so many. He was already disabled, with the knowledge that plenty of people out there wanted him dead for that single reason. Looked like those people would get their wish in the close future. 

But what of Feliciano? Lovino couldn’t just let his brother die, refused to. Damn his horrible luck, but he’d live for Feliciano’s sake. He stumbled into a car, trying to evade the undulating crowd that just kept rushing onward. A dog; doberman, with its sleek black coat and pointed ears, barely seen through all the scratches on the window. Luckily, the car was left unlocked, and the dog dashed out past him as soon as he opened the door. Even with the keys left inside, he’d never be able to get it out of all the traffic. Lovino was like the dog, but he had another passenger to watch out for before he could leave the car. He had the keys, and now to find an alternate path for his own figurative car. Feliciano would take the keys later. 

"Lovi!"

A force barreled into him, and held tight to him, keeping them both upright. "Dios, I thought I lost you," Antonio rushed to say. “We need to get out of here!”

Lovino looked to him for comfort, for reassurance, that everything was going to be fine, but couldn’t find a smile anywhere on the Spaniard's face. "What’s going on? What happened?"

Taking in the other's quivering lip, Antonio bit his own. "We stopped for a bathroom break," he reminded him. "I think you got confused and ran off. When I turned around, you were gone." 

Damn his amnesia. Lovino took that explanation, but was stubborn in getting another. "And all this?" he shouted above the screams and cries, his own tone hysterical, waving his arms to gesture wildly. "Did the world go fucking insane? What the fucking hell’s going on!” 

Antonio's expression turned to anguish. "It’s the flu, Lovino." 

He felt his heart skip a beat at the use of his full, chosen name. Not that pet name, not the name he had to write for a signature; his own name. It wasn’t love and acceptance he felt, as many would think. The grave burden of the situation levied down on him. "It mutated, like Mad Cow Disease. They’re delirious and attacking anything that moves. It’s like a horde of zombies."


	4. Lying in Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Injury, drugs, stealing. One scene with the German brothers, one with Antonio and Lovino.
> 
> In high school, I had two friends with diabetes. They were friendships of the type that we were only friends because we saw each other five days a week and sat near each other. After I started having troubles with my blood sugar (pre-diabetes, hypoglycemia, and more recently hyperglycemia), they were the least weirded out by my troubles (surprisingly, people tend to act like you're not human when you describe something they don't experience). At some point it turned into the thing that kept me from talking to them; after all, they were diagnosed and regularly saw doctors at a hospital, I was just dragged to a holistic doctor and told it would "clear up soon." Moral of the story: Always get a second opinion.
> 
> So if you see any oddities with Antonio's routines or blood sugar, it's because I've only ever seen it dealt with properly from a distance, and improperly first-hand. And some online research. 
> 
> No one died this chapter, except Vati has been "declared" dead.

Gooey Ashes

"He's not answering."

Gilbert followed that report with a curse and kick against the closest wall. Ludwig sat in the desk chair, head in his hands, stone still. Maybe if he didn't move, nothing else would. It was almost surprising that the water worked, something normal in all this nonsense, and all the same it had been a relief to wash off the dark goop. The swearing, thankfully, was kept to a minimum, noise being the last thing they wanted to get out of hand.

"Vati isn't answering his phone," he raved, shaking his phone as if that would somehow make it give up answers. "Frannie isn't either, and Toni's keeps sending me to voicemail! Even Keeks's fancy Japanese flip phone isn't giving me anyone to talk to!"

Ludwig dragged his hands down his face, cupping them together under his chin, and sighed. "We need to get moving," he stated.

Gilbert threw up his own hands. "Where? Where the hell are we gonna go!"

"I don't know."

"The hospital is the most dangerous place to be right now, we set zombies loose in the school, Toni's as good as dead, our apartment is a goner, we can't move our car an inch in that traffic, Frannie's-"

He stopped. And blinked. Then grinned. "Frannie. He's got a good security system."

Ludwig sighed, and deflated that plan. "It would take maybe an hour to get there on foot, not counting the obstacles now in the way."

Gilbert gave a dramatic drawn-out groan, and plopped himself on the desk of the small office. "If we get in sight of any of those things, even for a second, we're dead meat. Hate to say it, but it's a waiting game for the next few weeks. Maybe next few months."

"Hate to say it?" Ludwig couldn't help a small grin and tease at his brother. "We're in one of your movies. This is your dream come true."

"I never wanted this," Gilbert snapped, barring teeth. "It's all fine and dandy for you, you don't have any friends to speak of - don't get started on Kiku, you barely know what his favorite book is! But I've got best friends of several years who could be dead, all because of this nightmare!"

Ludwig reared back. "I'm not saying you haven't lost anyone-"

"Sure sounds like it!" He continued raving, keeping his brother on edge. "Francis and Antonio could be dying right now, and I'm sitting in the office of a jewelry store manager!"

"Vati is dead," Ludwig cut in, wringing his hands. "He's- he's my family, too." He had to take an extra breather, the sobs threatening to start if he didn't push them down again. Saying the truth was so much different than hearing it in your head. "If the hospital is...as bad as you say, um. Then he can't- wouldn't have survived long, sick as he was."

"Ach." Gilbert made a sound in the back of his throat, gritting his teeth again. "Awe-awesome, so you finally got something in your head," he said, trying to give a haughty comment, but the effect failed as his voice wavered. "You weren't taking me seriously before."

"Gilbert," he sighed. "People are dying. I'm taking that seriously. Not your tales of zombies."

"When will y-"

Gilbert cut himself off, fumbling to pull his phone out of his pocket, juggling it and nearly dropping it to smash into pieces, before he got a hold on it. The buzzing vibration stopped as he put it to his ear. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for forever now! Where the hell are you?"

Ludwig could only watch, praying, as Gilbert listened, eyes wide.

"It's Francis," came the good news. "He's okay, he's in his mansion, and-" Pause as talking came from the other end. "Yeah, Lud's here with me, we're holed up in the backroom of a store. We can't find Toni or Keeks. Haven't seen anyone else we know, no. Hey, you got any insulin at your place?" Pause for answer. "Awesome. Keep it safe in case you see Toni. Danke..."

More words followed, a conversation Ludwig was vaguely aware he probably shouldn't have been overhearing. It felt too personal, all the sighs, sharp inhales, and comforting words between two friends stuck in hard places. He had his brother, and that was all he needed right then.

"Be safe." Tap, end call.

"Francis is locked in a safe room," Gilbert reported. "He's safe, along with his parents, for the next few days, anyway. He's got an escape route, some food and water, and-"

"Are we going to be safe?"

Gilbert's words fell to the floor, and it revealed the eerie silence. Ludwig stared at his brother, expecting the reassurance big brothers were supposed to give. It had always been up to Ludwig to provide the protection, give his brother something to cling to, and now, feeling small and alone, he needed this.

"I mean," he grappled for words, a nervous laugh squirming its way between them. "As long as we stay hidden, collect food, and keep stocked on medical-"

"But are be going to be safe and okay?"

"I..." His hands stilled their nervous habits, and dropped beside him. "Yeah. Everything's gonna be fine."

\-------

"What the hell are you doing, dumbass!" Lovino stumbled into a thin display stand, cursing as sleep masks toppled to the ground. He barely paid it any attention, dashing to Antonio, and yanked at his shirt as he jumped over the pharmaceutical desk. "We need to get fucking going!"

Antonio pulled out of his grip, rushing for the fridges. "I need insulin, Lovi!" he shouted back, just as desperate. "My pump's nearly out! It'll just take a few minutes!"

Lovino let him go, staring and wondering how that important detail had slipped his mind. He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to sound like this was a hassle, and turned away. Well...they were in a convenience store...

Most of the place looked liked a bunch of toddlers had been let loose. Hungry toddlers; the food aisles and candy aisles were bare, save for a pack or two of peanuts and a few squashed cream eggs. Lovino grabbed a red medic-alert backpack and threw it over the counter to Antonio, and a second one for himself. The headache remedies he raided first, tossing in what was left. After a moment's thought, he tossed in a bit of everything else that had been left by the panicked horde. God, how long had he been asleep? Long enough that all this chaos had happened?

As a hazy static settled over his person, he shoved those thoughts away. A good smack to the side of his head, and he focused on getting whatever he could. Those packs of peanuts, anything labeled with "diabetes" or "glucose," and anything that looked medical and useful. That was to say, he refrained from staying long in the aisle of equipment for the elderly. After another glance to Antonio, he jumped over the counter again.

Without looking up, Antonio said, "I need padding to put in all this-" He cut off as he heard the rustle of pill bottles. "What are you-?"

Lovino grinned. "We're not getting painkillers like this anytime soon," he said, shoving more bottles in the bag. "Besides, I've always wanted to try anti-psychotics."

Antonio blanched. "You-? But what about Feliciano? What about the law?"

"It's the fucking Purge out there, if you haven't noticed. I'm not gonna pass this up." He stopped at cotton balls. Those worked as padding, right? Either way, he moved the bags of fluff to Antonio, who ripped them apart in a frenzy to protect his precious glass bottles.

"That's stealing, Lovi! Controlled substances! If anyone finds those on you, you could get in a lot of trouble!"

Lovino snorted. "Hypocrite, what do you think you're doing? You're not exactly bottling fairy dust there."

"That's different!" Antonio stopped to scold Lovino, giving him his full attention. "I need this to live, and we're in an emergency. You two aren't going to die if you don't get those pills."

Lovino flipped him the bird, accidentally dropping a small bottle in the process. "Fuck that. You can convince Feli on this later. We need to move, if you're done."

Antonio grit his teeth. "Needles," he got out. "I need sterile needles-"

"Got 'em," grunted Lovino. "Grabbed a syringe or two, and one of those tubes."

Antonio hesitated, then nodded, standing up. The glass clinked in his bag, despite his best efforts to be careful. "Then let's go."

Lovino hefted his own bag, yanking off the tag as an afterthought. He vaulted over the counter again, then backed up against it. "Who the fu..."

Someone had stumbled into the light of the small shop while they had their lovely little chat, and collapsed near the registers. His forehead pressed against the display where there had been candy bars and gums just hours before, and his chest moved in labored pants. Sweat beaded on his skin and bloomed in patches on his shirt. Red crescent shapes bored into his left arm, apparently used as a chew toy by a terrified dog.

Antonio vaulted over after, narrowly missing knocking his friend in the head with an ill-placed knee, before he could see what had stopped him. His reaction wasn't so muted. "Shit, Kiku!"

Lovino's throat constricted, and he grabbed Antonio by the strap of the bag, yanking him back.

"Lovi, let go! That's my friend there!"

"And you're my friend!" Lovino cut in, his voice turning raw from thick emotion. "You said," He stopped to lick his lips, and tried again. "You said it was the flu. If- if he's sick, I don't- I don't w-want- want you sick."

His grip went slack, but Antonio didn't run. "That's...yeah, you're right." His heart filled with relief. "But I can't just leave him here." And there went his heart again.

Lovino made a grab for Antonio's bag again, his shirt, his arm, anything, but the other teen escaped his grasp, sliding down to kneel by the small Japanese student.

"Kiku, are you alright? Kiku!"

"Kiku, can you hear me..."

A small whimper came from Lovino's throat. "Toni..." He took a step forward, reluctant to come any closer to what bubbled so much fear in everyone. He already lost his parents years ago, and had no clue where his grandfather could be with all the chaos. With so much restriction and complications when it came to friends, Antonio was all he had. He couldn't imagine life without that bright, beaming sun. "It's not sa..a..." His voice cracked.

Then everything went black. Flashes. Void. Sleep.


	5. If You Kiss My Cold Clay Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: ZOMBIES, character death, abstract scene pretending to be poetic, what is ao3 formatting
> 
> Feliciano's intro! Watch as I continue to insist there is no plot hole around the Vargas brothers.

Gooey Ashes

\------

"...hey, Lud?"

"Ja?"

"Shouldn't we hear screaming and other shit? When did it get quiet?"

They exchanged worried glances, and looked to the door, then to the window, blocked by blinds. Ludwig moved first, making slow movements over to the window. He squeezed his fingers through the panels, and squinted out into the darkness.

It took a few seconds to realize he was staring right at the face of a woman who looked desperately in need of medical aid. Ragged breathing made her frame shudder, glassy eyes couldn't focus on him, and hair matted at shallow, but painful, scrapes over her forehead.

He stepped back, the panels shaking where they closed off the world once more. "There's someone out there - she's injured - we have to help-" The hand on his shoulder stopped him.

After a short few seconds, he heard his brother's voice - not comforting, as he expected, but shaky and low. "Lud. Ach. Drop and barrel roll behind you, as fast as you can until you hit the wall."

Blood chilled in his veins.

\---------

Nothing ever went according to plan, did it?

Ludwig would have disagreed, citing numerous times when planning had saved someone's life, that surgeries relied on planning to pull through successfully, that he used planning in his day-to-day life to be as productive as he possibly could-

Not the time, his brother would cut him off. That was, if they hadn't been running for their lives at this point.

You see, there was a drastic difference between checking that every surgical tool was accounted for and sterilized, and running in the streets in the dead of night, where a stumble or step in the wrong direction could spell death. It was by miracle that they'd survived that first encounter. Gilbert put it down to a sleepy zombie, not yet empowered enough by the virus. He would've been slapped for that theory. Ludwig was a bit too busy worrying over how he'd hurt someone and hadn't been allowed to stop to help them. For that, he blamed himself for not being able to go against his brother's panicked insistence.

As it was, they didn't have the opportunity to bicker. No, the curdled screams and scratching, the slap of something on the pavement, stopped their brotherly arguments.

Ludwig sorely regretted taking along a pack stuffed with necessities. He could have done without them, really, and just gone home once this was all over and back to the comforts of home. He didn't exactly need it as he dashing out of the jewelry store, racing down the street, his brother hot on his tail. They just needed to get to safety, and these packs did nothing but slow them down.

What was safety, anyway? Not anywhere here on the streets, that much he knew.

Running wouldn't protect them forever. Running would lead them to more of these creatures, if Gilbert's panicking was anything to go by. If his brother didn't believe they were limited to one spot, then escape was possible. No, he'd advocated for waiting it out; waiting for the danger to die out before they did. Ludwig had the feeling that was a last-resort type of method. After all, what about hygiene? Socialization? Education? Exercise? Fighting back didn't appear as an option in his mind. Fighting was never an option.

Alone. Ludwig certainly didn't contemplate this while he and his brother barreled down the street, weaving between cars, banging on the hoods as they passed in a frantic attempt to push for more speed, to get away, get away. That scaly hand shadowed his shoulder.

Ludwig skidded to a stop inside a small convenience store after his brother, and whipped around to slam the door shut. He clipped the lock into position, but knew that wouldn't hold them for long. Anyone, regardless of ability and state of health, would get through the windows with enough desperation.

"Don't touch him!"

Even with everything whirling around his head, his brother's shriek made him turn around, raising his arms to - he didn't know what, just knowing that there might be another danger in the immediate vicinity. And he'd locked them in with it.

Gilbert grabbed the kneeling teen and roughly yanked him up, making him stumble. Antonio, he recognized. The missing friend.

"But he's hurt!" the Spaniard protested, his voice hoarse with emotion. "It's Kiku, we have to do something to help him!"

Kiku-?

Ludwig's attention turned to the boy in a heap on the floor, ragged breathing rising and dropping his entire body, the effect nothing short of beastly. His throat constricted, not for the first time that day, at the blood from the wounds, dripping without slow onto the dusty linoleum.

Eyes burning from emotion and inability to blink, taking a step forward-

"No, Lud! Get away from him!"

Ludwig hesitated, only a moment. "This is my friend, Gilbert!" His words shook, voice cracking, but what could he do? His knees jolted with electricity as he dropped down beside his faithful study buddy. "I can't just leave him."

"You'll get sick!"

This new voice made him hesitate again, and he pulled his hand away from heading to inspect the wound. He glanced up, biting the inside of his cheek. He waited for explanation. Something to persuade him not to tend to his best friend.

The boy fumbled with the straps of a red emergency pack, and his curly hair poked in all directions, evidently mussed up in the stress. Short, but not to be mistaken for an elementary school student, despite the voice a higher pitch than it should have been for his age. "It's contagious," he blurted out, skittish, his eyes glancing around the small group that all had eyes on him. "There's no cure! If you get sick, you're done for! What about saving yourself?"

Ludwig grit his teeth, but gave in, standing up and stepping away from Kiku. His friend hadn't taken notice of anything, glazed eyes focused on a discoloration on the floor. "You have a point," he conceded. "The... The best we can do is hope he, and everyone else in that state," he emphasized, "gets treatment."

With a faint grin, he added, "Gilbert won't have anyone to watch over if I'm in quarantine, anyway." That got a glancing smirk out of his brother.

"But, um, but..." The boy hesitated, biting his lip and fiddling with his fingers.

Ludwig gave him a moment to collect himself, but Gilbert had no such illusions. The albino, still a hold on Antonio, snapped at him, "Out with it, already. Standing around and stalling isn't going to help anything."

The boy flinched, tears in his eyes. "Everyone's turning into monsters!" Huh. Tough love worked this time. "Shouldn't we run before he turns into a monster? He's going to eat us all!"

Antonio yanked himself free of Gilbert's grasp, pulling the shaking boy into his arms in a comforting hug. "His name's Feliciano," he answered the unspoken question. "He's my friend, and I'm supposed to be watching him. A junior."

Gilbert slowly nodded. "We need to get moving," he agreed. "Kiku or not. Us four." He glanced to the front windows, where the lighting of the store spilled onto the sidewalk, just in time to see something flash by. His sudden tensing brought the rest of the gathered to tense, stilling noise to the bizarre unearthly cacophony outside and their own breathing, Kiku's rasping at the forefront.

"Ru-"

Glass shattered in webbing. A white-coated window chipped away, glass waterfalling onto the slick floor as a scraped arm reached its way through. None of them lingered long enough to see what followed. Gilbert bolted, then Ludwig; the steps of the other two echoed behind them.

Lights of the abandoned stores gave them stark cuts into the urban area, but the atmosphere of the night rang as something other than a ghost town. They had little moments to spare with jumping at every little movement around the cars and squished signs, things unknown splattering the insides of cars. Ludwig kept his focus on his brother's hair glowing in the night, somewhere between unwilling and unable to direct his attention elsewhere.

It was hope and good training in running with direction that Ludwig skidded to follow Gilbert into a building, rather new, its original intention grand. He stopped at the door, holding it open as Antonio, then Feliciano, raced in, their forms lacking. No better motivation for learning how to run than when your life was on the line. Gilbert spun around, rambling thoughts under his breath, before darting for salvation.

Ludwig had never been more happy about single-stall bathrooms than that moment. The slam behind him of the door was almost reassuring, their shield against the world that was attacking them.

Bangs, and what sounded like smacks made the door tremble and waver, but didn't give or crack. As Feliciano and Antonio shivered in each others arms in the corner of Ludwig's eye, he kept his stare on the door. Even the lock held.

Gilbert slumped to the floor. "I can't," he blubbered, choking on the tightening in his throat. "I can't do this. No way."

They had to. Ludwig steeled himself, prepared to be the bigger man, when to his utmost surprise, Feliciano beat him to the punch. The boy got down beside his brother, amazingly calm in reflection of his screaming moments ago. "But you can," he said, his words almost too soft under all the noise just past the door. "You got this far already. None of us can give up now, not when we just found someplace safe." Even for these precious moments, they had space to breathe. While everyone else found themselves frozen, Feliciano cracked his own frost for this moment. Gilbert kept silent, neither raising up confidence or protesting.

That was likely the best Ludwig could hope for. He didn't let up his guard for a long while, tensing every now and then when something slammed particularly hard against the door. Something fell over. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Feliciano's gaze fixated on the door. The kid should've been sleeping, curled up as he was with Gilbert and Antonio, the latter in an odd position, the port on his abdomen exposed to the air. He was a mystery to Ludwig, but he was human, and that was enough for him.

Maman, I'm scared.

Our illusion of time is fogging these flashes that must be present. Shattering, batting them aside like the water they dripped, your ice sculptures are gone. Black suits and dazzling dress shredded like tissue to thrift store finds, so many fell in an execution of a ruthless raid.

\------

Maman, Jeanne came today.

A tintinnabulation of laughs, joy welling up in our lives. We walked in the heavens, our immeasurable moments entranced by endless wonders, feather touches, long glances, and voices of angels. I wore my best suit, see? See, see, the bloodstains on my silk tie.

Papa, I'm scared.

A gentleman is brave, you told me. Takes care of his family and stands by them. A father cooks, tends to his wife, supports the family in finances and weaves us together.

Why, Papa, are you dead? Glassy eyes stare at me, salty tears and salty blood running down your face. I turn my head from the sight, and see your mess of legs and arms, wedding band glued to a finger over near the fireplace, tossed like another piece of trash.

There's scratching at the door. A cat, Maman.

It's a cat. Can I let the cat in, Maman? Can't you hear it meowing?

Maman, why are you crying?

The boat tosses and turns. Heaving breaths, lasting eternity scraping at my ribs.

I just have to get to the door, then I can rest. No rest for the wicked, so I'll surely sleep soon.

Don't open the door.

Don't.

Don't.

Open the door, I must.

Maman, look, it's Jeanne. She came for me. True love's fated Juliette.

Maman, why are you screaming? The sound clutches my heart.

Jeanne, you look so pale. Come in, lie down on the bed. Your hands shake in mine, the clip came free from your hair. Where are your parents? Look, Maman is here, let us care for you.

Lips, slimy and sharp. This Romeo dies with Jeanne's name on his own. 

\----

Death Toll: Kiku, Francis, Jeanne.


	6. Day 1: Pieces of Civilization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: talk about medication, no character death
> 
> Day One is uneventful in zombies, but here we have the beginnings of strife and secrets within the group. When the world is at its end, and humans are torn from everything they know, no one can escape those raw moments. There is nowhere to hide and reconcile the lies.
> 
> Ludwig is busy trying to sort out the mystery that is Feliciano. GerIta is not planned.
> 
> I Am Legend is a zombie movie (that I've watched!) where the zombies are nocturnal. I get most of my ideas about zombies from We're Alive, a podcast.

**Gooey Ashes**

"...it's quiet."

Torn by the night's events, none of them could muster up the emotional strength to snipe a joke. It gradually sank in that one of them had spoken at all, and they took that as the cue to stir.

Gilbert shifted on Ludwig's chest, rolling off him to rub his back. With a lack of comfortable spot on the floor, he stumbled to his feet. He rubbed his eyes, squinting as his brother opened the door, light streaming inside. "Gott, Lud, mein Rucken... Was..?"

Ludwig didn't stop him as Gilbert walked out into the light, and sprawled himself out on an intact table. "Ach... That was the worst sleep I've ever had..."

Ludwig shook his head. Hearing the other two stir, he called out, "It's safe," before closing the door, giving them some time to prepare for the outside world. Looking to his brother, then at the building entrance around them, he could only shake his head once again. For the sake of some semblance of a normal morning, he walked over to what had been a waiting room, hauled a chair out of the debris, and after checking to make sure it had all its legs, sat down.

"I told you so." Gilbert stared at him from the table, a grim expression to add to the lines under his eyes. "Zombie apocalypse. So, soooo glad that restroom had a fire door."

The horseman of war had made his pass through this building. It could barely even be called a building anymore. Furniture flung every which way, splintered and in pieces, like the scene after a frat party. Even the floor had something spilled on it; Ludwig didn't want to take a guess, and left it at the idea that it would stink up the area soon enough.

The windows - couldn't be called windows anymore. More like gaping holes where there had once been glass. Decadent curtains either lied in piles at the corners of these holes or had their shreds scattered like confetti. The main greeting desk, thanks to the bolts keeping it attached to the floor, remained as a shining example of resilience. Any justice in the scene was wiped clean away by the body shoved into the corner with a potted plant, too many limbs bending in too many ways to be anything living. Ludwig stared at it for he didn't know how long, something in his brain not registering it as a tragedy. At a noise from his brother as he shifted on the table, he blinked and turned his head away.

The door of the restroom opened again, and there was a pause where Feliciano helped Antonio over, their unsteady steps crunching on wood chips and whatever else that now covered the floor. The Italian shrugged off Antonio onto him, and Ludwig sighed. He was just as good as anything else to lean on, he supposed. Probably better, actually, from what remained of the furniture.

Still, being a cushion for someone who was a metaphorical zombie wasn't the most ideal. "Ten minutes," he mumbled, and wasn't surprised to find his mouth feeling gummy after a night like that. "Ten minutes," he said again. "We'll start moving."

Feliciano pulled up another chair to sit. "But where are we going to go?" He fiddled with his hands, keeping his eyes away from the destruction surrounding them. For a moment, Ludwig didn't know if he should speak. If he had the authority to pass judgment on the answer.

"Higher ground," he found himself saying. "We'll get a better look at what's going on in the area, and see where to go from there."

Even Gilbert, resident zombie expert, didn't have an argument for that. When given a questioning look, he defended himself listlessly. "Francis's place was full of danger, when I called last night. It would be a bad idea to go there now."

"And the zombies?" Feliciano ventured nervously.

Gilbert answered that one. "Well, we're not being attacked, so I think we're good," he said, grinning. "I think they're like the zombies in I Am Legend."

Antonio mumbled, and perked up a small bit, and started again, "Have you been going off movies this whole time?"

"Maybe," Gilbert admitted, not sulking as expected. "But the directors think this stuff through. It's the best zombie prep out there, 'sides the stuff on the internet." Ludwig rolled his eyes.

"That's smart," Antonio said, and slumped against Ludwig again, eyes glassy. Feliciano moved his arm, and watched it flop. Ludwig shushed the kid from playing.

They sat there for a long moment, none of them willing to move, until Gilbert dropped a heavy bag into Ludwig's lap. He blinked, and Antonio slumped over him anew, a red backpack in hand. Another red backpack found its way to Feliciano. "C'mon," the albino grunted, shouldering his own stuffed bag. "I don't wanna hang around here any longer."

Outside wasn't much of an improvement; the building interior had been introduced to the outside, anyway. The atmosphere was more than just as though a hurricane had come through. Cars stuffed in traffic, no drivers to honk their horns. A few radios buzzed with static and playing a CD on repeat. No one walked the streets as far as our stumbling group could see. Some stores blared their lights despite giving no service. They didn't want to address the places where everything was shut and dark.

"So... Which way's up?" Gilbert asked, giving a slight chuckle. Ludwig shrugged, and it trailed off.

"That way." Antonio pointed down the street, the way most of the cars pointed. "Everyone was running that way. There's a military base that way, so it's the safest option. There's also a highway that breaks off from the road, and it's high up. We can look at everything from there."

Ludwig sighed. "Might as well," he said, starting to walk. Antonio led the way, apparently at full strength again, holding Feliciano's hand to keep him close. At times the Italian started drifting away, to find himself gently guided back to Antonio's side.

They reacted to the world around with them with a numb horror, picking around the pieces of civilization scattered across the streets. Plastic bags, shards of plastic and wood, scraps of clothing, the occasional purse. Dust. Gilbert stopped at a small arm sticking out from under a car tire, and Ludwig pulled him along, urging him to keep moving.

Black scuffs and stains took up most of their observation. Like discarded gum or paint, it could be found in every nook and cranny. As shoe scuffs, flicked across walls, splattered on cars, pooling on pavement. They avoided it physically and in speech, none of them brave enough to bring up what could turn out to be another threat. It was another threat to everything they knew to be their home.

"Can we take a break?" Feliciano's whining broke the monotony, the grim atmosphere. Ludwig almost felt glad for the intrusion, but answered with a shake of his head.

"Ludwig," Antonio said, the Italian still close at his side. "We're not all cut out for all this walking. Let's stop for now. Get something to eat. We can't keep going forever."

That got a resigned sigh from Ludwig. "Alright... Find a spot to rest." To his everlasting confusion, Feliciano easily perked right up, and skipped - out of all things, a teenage boy skipping! - over to a quint little restaurant.

Before the boy could get to the door, Gilbert dashed in front of it, blocking the way. "What are you thinking?!"

"Ve?" The sound threw Ludwig for a loop. Ve? What was a 've'? "But why? My feet are starting to hurt."

"You can't just walk in there!" Gilbert protested.

Feliciano shied away, ducking behind the other two. After one look at the big German, he instead found solace behind Antonio. Ludwig stared at the kid with a look of bewilderment. Did he really look that frightening..?

"Gilbert." Antonio took a stand, frowning at his long-time friend. "What's going to happen if we walk inside?"

"Zombies," Gilbert said, and glared at his brother for the reflexive roll of the eyes. "If we just waltz on in there, we could be zombie chow in seconds!"

Ludwig crossed his arms over his chest. "We're stopping. That's not debatable."

"No one's going in there until we know it's safe," Gilbert growled back, not budging on this issue.

"Then maybe we should go somewhere else..." Feliciano suggested, peering around Antonio, who wasn't budging either.

"We'd just have to go through this again at any other place," Antonio sighed. "Do either of you have any weapons on you?" He didn't include Feliciano in his question; evidently, he didn't expect, or already knew, the kid wouldn't have anything useful on him.

Gilbert nodded, grinning, but it quickly fell at Antonio's resigned expression. "Yeah, right...here." He produced from his bag a-

Ludwig groaned. "Gil, you didn't. You held onto it?"

The fucking crowbar.

"It doesn't matter where he got it," Antonio said, taking it anyway and holding it like a baseball bat. "It'll work."

"Work? The area is deserted-"

"Ludwig." He turned to see Feliciano actually addressing him for once, although the boy recoiled at his stare. "If there's nothing there," the boy ventured, "then no harm done. If nothing else, it might give us some time to run away."

Feliciano smiled at the end of his explanation, and Ludwig felt a curl of disgust at the blatant cowardice of that statement. Not even trying to cover it up by encouraging it as a retreat for safety. Either way, he sighed. "Let Antonio through, Gil."

His brother moved out of the way, taking his word as law, and Antonio set down his bag before advancing. He stopped right at the door, and looked back at them. "Uh, you don't have to crowd the entrance. It would be better if you were ready to run, just in case." That made the rest of the group step back, blushes on their faces and looking away as if they hadn't just been looking over his shoulder. Antonio stared at them a moment longer before entering the establishment, the tinkling of the door's bell greeting his passage.

Feliciano was the first to abandon the post of 'ready to run', much to Ludwig's annoyance. He went right to the window, pressing his nose against the pane to try to get a better look inside. No sense of self-preservation in that head, apparently.

The minutes dragged on. Ludwig, for the life of him, couldn't keep from staring down the street, at one building. There was nothing special about the building, but it was a neutral sight to keep his eyes on while his thoughts ran rabid. Worries ran through his head again, but he felt too dazed to keep up with them. It all became white noise to him. Something nagged at the edge there.

His father. Ah, there it was. Grief. Something he was trying to reign in on, unknowing how to deal with it. Did people deal with it? Surely, a funeral was one way. If you believed staring at a caricature of your dead relative, dressed as if attending a formal dinner, soothed the heart.

A haze stung his eyes, and he blinked, finding that he'd just been staring a bit too long. He blinked away the tears he felt edging on at the sudden return, and wiped them away, looking down from the building. To the blackened cement. With the sun rising ever more, he could pick out the splatters and hardened oozing, likely to get sticky as the sun beat down. O God, save him.

"The place is clear!" Antonio's announcement was the welcome savior of Ludwig's musings, and he was able to shove them away to focus on the now. He picked up his bag, carrying it with a delicacy like a baby. "And the fridge still works!"

Ah. Insulin was in the bag. Ludwig and the other two followed in, Feliciano having to be poked to realize they were going in, Antonio moving ahead to get his bag to the fridge as soon as possible. Ludwig slid into a seat near the kitchen, choosing a spot where he could watch Antonio, the other two, and a clear view out the windows from his vantage point.

It almost made him laugh. The action was decidedly a military one; or a paranoid one. Perfect spot to keep an eye on allies, while being able to watch for any potential attacks. Born for nonviolence, but trained for the army. Sometimes he wondered about his father.

His thoughts stumbled, tripped, and crashed to a halt. His father. So quick, back to that topic already.

"Do you have a headache?"

Ludwig jerked up his head, having put it down without notice. He creased his brow at Feliciano. "What?"

Feliciano smiled, too cheery and eager for something - he didn't know what - and repeated, "Do you have a headache?"

"...no," he said, then amended as the kid's face started to fall, "It's not much of one, I mean. I can handle it."

Ludwig found himself gaping as the over-eager Feliciano put his bag on the table, and started taking out headache relievers. One after the other, it looked like he'd raided a pharmacy from all the pills. "I like this one," Feliciano pointed out an extra-strength, before moving a different bottle closer to Ludwig. "This one's for tension headaches. Mild."

Ludwig looked over the label, then stared at Feliciano, and how he looked so very pleased with himself. "...thank you," he mumbled.

Two went down his throat with a much-needed drink of water, while Feliciano carefully put the bottles away. Was he-? Wonderful. He was humming.

Antonio saved Ludwig from the musical torture, distracting Feliciano with a smile and a question: "Can I talk to you for a minute? In the kitchen."

It was none of his business. Really, it wasn't, but rather than be left to his own thoughts again, Ludwig leaned back in the squeaky chair, and strained to hear their conversation. Really, he should be ashamed of himself. Eavesdropping, honestly. The two weren't making much of an effort to keep whatever it was a secret, anyway. Well, Antonio was, Ludwig noted with a guilty conscience.

Consolation came in the fact that he couldn't hear much of it. Something about pills, and a third person. Gilbert mentioned the boy had a brother. Here came the guilt again. They'd all lost someone here, not just Gilbert and himself. Ludwig lost Kiku and his father, and in addition to that Gilbert lost Francis. Antonio had a big family, and besides his mother, all he could do was pray that Spain had escaped the flu. Feliciano had lost someone as close as a brother.

Dear God, the guilt had never felt so heavy. Eavesdropping, to overhear a conversation dripping with hurt, about someone recently dead. Why couldn't he keep his curiosity to himself? Voices rose with emotion, and the words became too clear.

"I just want to feel normal." Feliciano. Betrayed.

Quieter, softer, came Antonio's voice. Reassuring. "You are normal. But you don't know what that'll do to you."

"We can at least try!"

"I'm trying to tell you to wait. Wait until we can get to a proper doctor-"

"No! They won't let us have it!"

"Maybe that's for a reason-"

"This is our only chance! Just please let us take this!"

"Yo, Toni!" Ludwig thanked everything watching out for them in the heavens that Gilbert knew an escalating situation when he saw one. "There any food back there? Care to cook us up some grub?"

A moment of silence went by before Antonio answered, caught off guard. "I'll check."

Ludwig heard cabinets and sticky doors pulled at before he stood up with a sigh. "Gil, you can't order him around like a servant," he berated his brother, throwing him a smile. He moved into the kitchen, Feliciano almost tripping him up in his haste to get past. If pills were the problem, he'd have to be on high alert for life-threatening side effects. "Here, Antonio, I'll help you look." 

Or any side effects. With the risk that the events of last night could repeat, he wanted to be on the lookout for anything that could slip them up.


	7. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: human vs human conflict, SpAus puppy love, eating food
> 
> New challenger! Roderich!
> 
> Decided to try out Antonio's POV for a chapter (although it switched around with Lud's POV at times in drafts). It turned out interesting, but Ludwig's perplexed sardonic approach to everything is hilarious, so don't expect much more narration from Antonio. On the other hand, SpAus is one of my loves, and I'm a fan of a vaguely manipulative Antonio.
> 
> The days, for now, will be hidden in where the action comes from. Night is more overt with the threats.

**Gooey Ashes**

There wasn't much more to stall with, and the procrastination activities came to a halt as the group settled into meals of deconstructed burgers and smatterings of fries. None of them cared at that moment to mess with putting together the burger ingredients to make a solid sandwich. Antonio stared at his lap, fiddling with his insulin pump, then looked up, taking plastic utensils to dig into his meal-

Antonio blinked. Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't the sight of the other three staring at him. "What? I need insulin when I eat." He huffed, and Ludwig was the first to look away. "It's not weird or anything. It's perfectly normal."

"It's... I apologize," Ludwig said, turning his head down to stare down at his food. "It's not that. It's... I suppose...with all that's happened, it's something familiar. I promise, it won't happen again. Will it, Gilbert?"

Gilbert broke his blank stare, whipping his head around wildly. "Wha- hua? Oh, yeah, I agree." He paused, and scrunched his nose. "Wait, what am I agreeing with?"

Ludwig sighed. "It's nothing, Gilbert. Eat your...lunch."

Antonio frowned, and poked at his burger. Feliciano, he didn't mind so much, he'd gotten used to that kid's weird habit at staring at impeding train wrecks. He waved his plastic fork, breaking the Italian's stare, the younger turning to stare at the other two.

"What was it? C'mon, Lud, don't leave me hanging..."

"Eat, Gilbert."

Antonio quietly ate, watching the brothers squabble. He had cousins, but nothing as close as what played out before him. Francis fit in the role of brother with much more ease than anyone else.

Speaking of...

He hadn't seen the Frenchman since before this disaster. Francis was always right at the side of Gilbert and Antonio, providing balance and dynamic as they all did with each other. A third of the puzzle was missing without him. Empty space, meant to be filled with that nasally accent, instead now filled with the huffs and groans of Ludwig. Feliciano, tacked onto the edges, felt like an outcast, an unwelcome wheel that wasn't supposed to be there.

Antonio supposed he had to be glad Lovino wasn't complicating things. He could only guess at the emotions the Italian would display. Strings of swears, silence and gravitating toward Antonio's comfort, or that unnerving cutthroat attitude of wrestling control of everyone. An unpredictable ball of volatile. None of this day needed any more complications.

"Hey," he spoke up, interrupting both his thoughts and the bickering. "Did any of you have any contact with Francis?"

"Oh, yeah. He's fine, he's got some bomb shelter under his house or something." Gilbert jabbed an accusing knife at Antonio. "But you. I couldn't get a hold of you at all! Frannie and your mom said you were out, but what the hell, dude?"

"My phone died." Simple answer. "I forgot to charge it before going out. When did you talk to my mom?"

Gilbert ducked his head, staring at his own meal. "Before last night," he confessed, as if he'd made some mistake. "I didn't think to help her prepare. Sorry, we would've stayed, I really didn't think it would be this bad..."

"I'm sure she found some way to safety," Antonio assured him. Even though Gilbert had only been thinking of his closest friends, and nothing more than that small circle, and certainly had time to add another person to his list of persons to save, Antonio was not bitter. Nope. Not at all. "There has to be something the military set up. Everyone was going that way, she probably went that direction was well."

"You're optimistic," Ludwig noted with pleasant surprise.

He had to be. Hope spurred the revolutions of history. Antonio shrugged. "Well, yeah. It's my mom. I'm hoping for the best." Feliciano's eyes refocused, and he blinked a few times.

"What do you think happened to my grandfather?"

Antonio frowned. The boy needed an answer, but his voice wavered, as if he was unsure about if he should even be asking. He shook his head. "We can't answer that, Feli. Try not to think too much on it." Ludwig shot him a skeptical glance, but he returned it with another shake of his head. Feliciano didn't work well with that false type of reassurance. From how long he'd known the younger boy, Feliciano worked best with the adage of "out of sight, out of mind" for most problems.

Already, Feliciano seemed to accept that non-answer, returning to eating his food without argument. Gilbert and Ludwig exchanged uneasy glances with that route, and Gilbert shot him a look. Everyone loved Antonio. To others, he seemed to know exactly what to do and had the perfect (although some would say worst) timing.

Some would say he could play anyone like a fiddle. Antonio would decline to comment.

Their procrastination only lasted so long. Once ready to leave, but not to confront the horrors that waited outside of the shiny walls of the restaurant, they resumed their journey, trailing out onto the road again. It didn't take long at all for the four of them to focus on their feet, unwilling to see destruction.

"It's raining." Antonio stopped to turn his face to the sky, watching the blue hide behind dark clouds. A few drops speckled his face, mingling with the light sheen of sweat that had formed after the few hours under the sun.

Ludwig grunted, "Not much we can do about it. Keep walking." The blessing was mixed; a brief respite from the heat, but getting wet when they had few clothes to spare wasn't ideal.

Feliciano had other ideas, a bright grin on his face. Even being from a country known for its sun, the Italian could appreciate when something came to cool them off. "We don't have to die!" Antonio chuckled.

Gilbert frowned, stopping in his tracks. Ludwig stopped as well, giving a sigh. "Gilbert, it's just rain. What-"

"I hear a car."

Ludwig stopped. "A...car?" he asked slowly, not understanding. Antonio looked back, holding Feliciano's hand to keep him near.

Gilbert nodded, and looked around, peering down the ends of the road, around the scattered wrecks and abandoned cars. "Ja. One that's actually moving. Like I hear its engine and everything." He squinted into the sun, crawling up the sky. "Make that a bus."

"A bus?" Ludwig shook his head. "Gil, I think the sun is getting to you-"

"No, wait," Antonio said, hopping a bit as he stared in the same direction, trying to get a better look. "I see it, too. A yellow school bus, someone's driving it."

Skeptical, Ludwig squinted into the sun for a long moment, before taking his eyes away with a scowl, closing them shut. Just as he pressed his fingers against them, a rumble reached his ears. Civilization, a chance of salvation, in the form of an elementary school bus. They almost had no strength to raise their arms in wake of the heat and emotional exhaustion, but they managed, waving, Gilbert even jumping up and down. The yellow vehicle, covered in all its glory with dents and dark splatters on the wheels, slowed to a stop, and the doors opened.

Before they could rush aboard, saved at last, saved at last!, a chorus of shouts came from inside. Someone dashed to the front dashboard, and tore the crank back, slamming the doors shut. Ludwig found his smile fading, and Feliciano clung for support to his arm. Antonio and Gilbert were the ones to cling to the door, knocking on it, insisting that they weren't sick/zombies.

One of the windows opened, and a woman stuck her head out. She gave a cry before being yanked back inside, the window hurried to be shut. Antonio gasped. "Mamá!" He pulled at the doors with renewed strength, yelling, "That's my mama! My mom's in there, let us in!"

Antonio slipped into yelling in Spanish, his cries tearing into the air as hands beat against the painted metal. Sweat squeaked on the yellow. While his own ears grew deaf to the efforts of his friends, Antonio would give up nothing as long as that door separated him and his mother.

With a great creak, the plastic glass and metal shuddered under his hands. Antonio wouldn't step away. Hardly. His fingers pried at the edge of the rubber on the door, and pulled it open the rest of the way. A form tackled and pulled him close all at once. Spanish assurances filled his ear, making Antonio tremble, emotions washing over him, relief at the paramount.

Tired breaths echoed around him. With his friends, Antonio's mother ushered him aboard the bus, guiding him to an empty seat. She continued to hug him tight, her voice fading to a raspy whisper, stroking his hair.

Not that he didn't want to stay like that forever, but he had friends to watch out for. Classmates. Antonio squirmed out of her smothering choke hold after the bus had started its steady chugging along, and sat up properly. And almost jerked back.

Another teen stared back at him, suspicion poring from those sneering eyes behind a pair of glasses. He crossed his arms, looking for all the world like a spoiled child of wealth. The boy reminded him of Francis.

Ignoring him for the time being, Antonio leaned into the aisle, peering down to the front of the bus. A few scattered people slept, and he spotted Feliciano leaned against another girl his age, the two of them dozing off. Ludwig and Gilbert talked to someone who looked like an authority, the man dressed in military fatigues. They'd at least dropped those stuffed hiking backpacks for a moment. Glancing around the rest of the bus, not much-

That stare again.

That stern teen still had his eyes glued on Antonio. He raised his eyebrows at the other. "Uh, can I-"

"Roderich Edelstein."

The name came crisp and clear in the bus of battered and ragged. Antonio's eyebrows flew higher, before he smiled at the sign of goodwill. He thrust a hand forward. "Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, nice to meet you."

The other boy, Roderich, smiled, just barely there, a note of satisfaction to it. He took Antonio's hand, and dipped his head, his lips brushing the top of his hand. "Pleasure."

Antonio found himself blushing hot and at a loss for words. He brought his hand back, pressing it against his chest. "I- uh... I..." He giggled like a little girl, and he felt his mother's hand on his head again, threading her long nails through his curls. "I'm 18. You?"

Roderich blinked, apparently not having expected such a question, but his eyelashes fluttered to rest into place with that narrow stare. "I'm 17. I attend a prestigious school of music."

Antonio couldn't help but point out with a laugh, "You sound prestigious." The other teen scoffed, and rolled his eyes as Antonio continued, "I guess that's why I've never seen you at school. It's the public system all the way for me."

Roderich sniffed. "I can tell. Haven't you ever been taught decorum?" At Antonio's shake of the head, he huffed, "Figures."

"No, wait." Antonio shed his backpack, leaving it with his mother as he hopped across the aisle to sit next to Roderich. "Scoot over. Now, go on, tell me about decorum."

"I can't just-" Roderich cut himself off with another huff. "First lesson," he started, giving in. To Antonio's surprise but not disappointment, the boy leaned against his chest, taking hold of the Spaniard's arms to adjust them to hold him comfortably. "You can serve as my pillow. I couldn't get any measure of sleep with all that noise last night."

"I can do that." Antonio murmured, taking to his new task with delight. He looked up, and found Gilbert giving him a raised eyebrow from the front of the bus. He just beamed in response.  



	8. Mourn When You're Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: suicide, character death, flooding, I have no idea how to properly insert a line break. (The suicide is near the end of the chapter.)
> 
> New challengers! Mathias (Denmark), Toris (Lithuania), Feliks (Poland)!

**Gooey Ashes**

The bus chugged along, bumping over debris and everything else Ludwig didn't want to think about when the vehicle shuddered. A glance out the window showed a ghost town stuck in rush hour, undisturbed by the bus going down the wrong side of the road, overshadowed by a sheet of rain. It was a relatively clear path, surprisingly - but only relatively, Ludwig reflected, as the wheel under his seat jolted again.

The army soldier nodded. "That's where we're heading. I radioed the place, and it sounds like they've got a system for this kind of emergency. There'll be enough bedrolls for everyone, although we might have to ration food. MRE's aren't that bad, so I wouldn't worry about a thing."

Ludwig sighed in relief. "That's good to hear that we're not alone," he remarked. "One of my friends suggested we stop at a bridge for a vantage point to get a look at what it's like nearby. See if there are other survivors and what's happened to the county."

"That might be a good idea," the soldier said. "We don't want to take many stops - want to get there as fast as possible. The sooner, the better. But it might be worth it to take a look." He stuck out a hand, grinning. "Mathias Kohler."

Ludwig took the hand and gave a firm handshake, although he felt awkward about it. The soldier, Mathias, didn't seem to notice. "Ludwig," he stumbled over his own name. "Ludwig Beilschmidt. This is my brother, Gilbert." The brother in question looked back to them at the mention, having been staring down the bus aisle.

"I like you," Mathias decided, making Ludwig blush, flustered by the surprise.

"I think Tonio's found himself a boyfriend," Gilbert chimed in, grinning. Ludwig rolled his eyes, watching Mathias laugh at the unexpected change in subject.

"It's better to have friends than enemies in this atmosphere. Lightens the mood," Mathias sobered them, fiddling with a radio in his hands. "Always good to have someone to turn to when you're in a dark place." A low, soft beeping noise came from the device over the splatter of rain on the windows, consistent even as he switched the channels.

"Is there anything on the radio?" Ludwig asked, curious. Not any static that he knew. "I thought everywhere would be shut down. Can you talk to anyone on that?"

"This?" Mathias held up the radio. He shook his head. "Nah, this is just supposed to play music and the news. Everything's been overridden by a national alert. It's a prerecorded message."

"Prerecorded message...? Like a tornado warning?"

"Sorta. It's annoying as hell, but that's to get people's attention. It just says there's a danger nearby and that everyone needs to head to the nearest government-approved shelter. Around here, that would be the military base we're headed to."

Ludwig nodded. In hindsight, the radio should have been the first they turned to, but by now radio was an antiquated thing to the teens, and they went straight for contacting loved ones with cellular data. None of them had stayed still long enough to connect to any Wi-Fi or check news sites. They'd been too busy running for their lives.

0o0o0

Over the steady chug of the bus, the rain eased off, and the clouds cleared for the sun to peek through. Not much of a cry for those taken by chaos.

The bus slowed to a crawl, and Mathias stood up. He was first off the bus when it came to a full stop, and he gestured to our unlucky pacifist. "Ludwig. You look like a guy who knows how to keep a level head, c'mon." He hopped off the bus before Ludwig could form a protest, and our protagonist reluctantly followed, the bus door closing behind him.

Mathias pointed to one side of the bus. "I'll head that way," he said, and then to the other side of the bus. "You circle around that way. We're just making sure this area is safe before we endanger anyone else."

Ludwig was comparable to cannon fodder, apparently. The passengers of the bus started to wake up, peeking out the windows, piling on the side to watch them and look around where they'd ended up. Before he could step away, Mathias pressed a leather sheath into his hand, a worn, stubby hilt poking out of it.

"I don't want you to have to use this," he explained. "This is a last resort if I don't get to you in time. You yell for me first, okay? Then run. Run as fast and far as you can. No heroic sacrifices. Got it?"

Ludwig nodded, numb, staring at the knife.

"Good. We're just scoping out the immediate area." Mathias gave him a grim smile, and waved to him over his shoulder as he started walking in the opposite direction.

Ludwig swallowed, tearing his eyes from the object in his hands. It wasn't a weapon if he didn't use it, right? Just a bit of metal, wrapped up so nobody could get hurt. With that in mind, he gave himself a reassuring nod, acknowledged his duty as scout, and turned on his heel.

The bus engine stopped, but the crunch and bounce as the passengers moved around didn't, the aching vehicle long used to bundles of energy that it didn't fight back against the tide of weight shifting along. Ludwig kept his eyes away from the windows, unsure what he'd find there - judgment, hope, fear?

Other denizens of the road weren't so animate. They sat there, frozen in time, as if someone had set them up for a movie set. After the villain had come to wreak havoc on innocent civilians, a climax that led to the hero saving the day, although at a cost. Movies never showed repair montages, where construction revitalized smashed bridges and towed away cracked cars. This highway's repair montage didn't seem like it was coming anytime soon, and Ludwig narrowly avoided stepping in a puddle of black tar, a baseball hat caught and stomped into it. The eerie silence that came from the absence of cars zooming by on a distant highway unnerved anyone. It just... Ludwig hated to say it, but he'd become so used to the sounds of civilization, it just wasn't natural anymore without them. Silence was violence.

Ludwig followed directions like a good little soldier, very much regretting speaking up, but now was not the time for that. The knife burned in his hand, a sweaty reminder that something could jump out at any moment.

The world remained silent. Wind no longer howled by, swiping at cars zooming by. Bugs buzzed at car doors. They buzzed at pools of black tar. He had to cover his mouth as he passed a rather sticky car, the stench reminding him of something he never wanted to encounter for years. Or ever, really. Death wasn't a friendly smell.

Ludwig's boots hit the ground he'd started on, and he came to a stop just feet away from the bus doors. He let out a shaky breath. Mathias grinned at him, giving him the thumbs-up, and Ludwig returned the gesture, feeling relief fill him. Safe.

The bus emptied as Mathias delivered the all clear, although everyone was warned to stick close to the bus; they'd only scouted out a small, immediate area, after all. It was crude, but, as Mathias explained, pissing on the asphalt between cars was preferable to sitting in the bus for another few hours, 'cause he wasn't about to risk any further delays on their way to the base. With a bit of grumbling, the group split into two.

Mathias was one of the first to return, leaning over the concrete edge of the bridge, trying to get a good look at all the details of everything as far as he could see, and then some. Ludwig came to stand beside him, face red as he did his best to keep his focus on beyond the bridge instead of on the other survivors right then. He gave the soldier a concerned glance at how far he was leaning, but trusted the man to know what he was doing.

"So, how's it looking?" Gilbert asked, coming to stand beside the two. He rested his elbows on the edge, looking out with dour expectations.

"Empty," Mathias answered, strangely serious for his bright persona, that word meaning much for the brothers. "Cars that aren't moving, some car crashes, but no people. Nothing moving except squirrels and a weird number of dogs."

Gilbert mumbled something, and Ludwig nudged him. "Wha- Uh, it's nothing," his brother dismissed. "Can't you hear that weird rumbling noise?"

"Rumbling-?" Ludwig glanced to Mathias, whose frown seemed even more prominent. Ludwig leaned as close to the edge as he dared, with safety seeming to be thrown to the wind by the other two. Hypermasculinity, maybe. Overload of testosterone making them reckless. He reluctantly strained his hearing, thankful most of the bus passengers had finished by that point, and collected to look over the bridge as a group.

Mathias squinted out in the distance. "I'd say it's rain, but it's clear out- aw, shit."

The swear word echoed in the group as the rest of them spotted what had been seen in the distance, and a few muffled screams from the more faint among them. Or, one could say they were a little more loud at heart. Gilbert latched onto Ludwig, and he found a smaller Italian clinging to him for lack of anyone else comforting nearby.

The destruction didn't take long. Some didn't dare to blink, some chose to look away. A literal wave of water thundered through the roads and crashing over every ditch it came across, smacking into signs and trees with hardly any sign of slowing. Brown from all the dirt it picked up on its way, the wave went through the clearest-cut path it could find: the roads. The bridge rumbled as the wave swept underneath it, just tall enough that the survivors got little more than splashed in its relentless onslaught.

Not much would be the same after this. The water kept pouring on and on, like a river had burst its banks and chose here to continue flowing. The flood swelled and spread out, claiming this quaint county as its own. Well, it had never really been quaint, some might have called it trashy, but it was home. Many of the gathered had never been born around here, moving in at a later age, but they had established homes here. A home where they met friends and grew in character, if not age.

Was there fear? There were many things to fear. Ludwig might have tried to rationalize that fear, but as it was, watching a place you'd come to know as home be smashed by gallons of water halted that thought process. It was like a held breath, but everyone had let that out in a scream, and had no idea how to take another breath.

Someone - brave someone, dropping their bag behind them - stumbled through the crowd. Eyes wide, skin pale, a gasping lip; fear, fear they could all see.

Brown hair, but Ludwig couldn't for the life of him see what color his eyes were when the man looked back at him. Mixed emotions. The face almost broke, but it held firm, bordering on a breakdown. He grasped at the edge for support, and hopped to get a better look. Although shorter than Ludwig, he was tall enough to see the devastation just like everyone else. A strong bounce, and everyone stared in mute horror as one their own toppled into the flood.

The crashing waves hid the splash below. A muffled rasp came from where the man had stumbled from. "Toris..?" Ludwig couldn't tear his eyes from the damp edge, where handprints shone like damning evidence in his imagination. Didn't want to see his own expression mirrored on the faces of the other survivors; couldn't face the grief-torn friend of a man who just took his own life.

Toris, the name echoed in the minds of the survivors. Toris, another name to etch on the memorial in their memories. The survivors clung to tight to the loved ones they still had. Ludwig pulled close the two clinging to him. Feliciano may have lost a brother, but, by God, Ludwig wasn't about to let anyone or anything take the boy out of this life. After a few minutes, barely enough mind to lay out their hearts, Mathias directed the group minus one aboard the bus. Mourning could be done when they were safe.


	9. Toy Soldiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: character death, guns, flooding

"Something's not right," Gilbert muttered beside Ludwig, his face glued to the window. As they neared the wall of men, the bus slowing down, nothing moved. A still breath held among the survivors.

"They're not clearing a path for us," Ludwig noted. Heads peering down the aisle, poking over the seats, and pressed against windows silently agreed. Men in full army fatigues blocked the road in a tight line, riot gear and guns alike at the ready. Every one of them could just as easily reach for a gun as they could reach for a shield. Like machines, the expressions seen behind the visors stayed carved in stone.

Mathias waved away his concerns. "They're concerned one of us might be sick. It's regulations; they might want to search us or put us through a quarantine." Standing, holding onto the seat as the bus lurched to a stop, he added, "Everyone stays here. I'll go talk to them." He gave Ludwig a supportive clap on the back, and the younger watched him go with something of a grim, accepting smile.

"We have to get out of here," were the first words out of Gilbert's mouth, jumping to his feet as Mathias stepped out of earshot.

Ludwig shot him a stern glare. "Gilbert, we have to stay put and follow orders-"

"Yo, Toni!"

Ludwig groaned at his brother shouting across the bus, interrupting the scolding.

"Yeah, Gil?"

"It's like in The Last of Us!"

Antonio lurched in his seat, disturbing the tired seatmate in his lap. "Dios, really? That game?"

"Gilbert, this isn't some game-"

"BUS BACK DOOR! GET OFF THE BUS!"

Antonio jumped for the back end of the bus. Three gunshots rang out, and he yanked the hinge, letting the alarm pierce through the entire bus. Ludwig heard a faint thump as the bus full of survivors started screaming, and jerked his head to stare out the front window. Mathias stumbled, falling like a chopped tree, a dark splotch suddenly decorating his uniform. The soldiers, taking notice of the movement on the bus. Scrambling, Ludwig joined the crowded aisle of the bus, grimly grateful for their small number.

"Oh, Gott..."

Methodical. One, two, one, two... Marching death to the bus, that uniform no longer represented any vague protection or freedom. No shouts came from the clones painted with military cameo. Silent in the face of hyperventilation and babbling. Cold, steely stares met wide, panicked ones. Machines.

"O Gott, o Gott, o Gott-" Ludwig's breath hitched, his faith in the government turning on its head. His backpack was thick enough for bullets, right? "Gott, they're going to kill us."

Death sticks raised. Cocked. The survivors pushed and pulled within themselves, suddenly faced with flee or die at the hands of men who no longer retained human values. Ludwig found himself yanked down as gunshots echoed behind him, pummeling the breath from his lungs.

"Hold on, we got you." Gilbert and Antonio, forcing him to get his footing. One word stuck out from the rain of fire about to commence:

"Run!"

There was not as much running for their lives as there was scrambling like rats. Most of the survivors scattered, fleeing in any direction that included 'away from the guys with guns'. Antonio and Gilbert, having had a few extra seconds than others to prepare, pulled Ludwig along with them, heading to cover. He barely registered passing Feliciano as they ducked behind a- he wasn't sure, something cement, and tall enough to hide behind. It got them clear of the bullets, anyway.

But the running wasn't over. "We have to keep going," Antonio insisted, as they had a moment to take in a full breath. Ludwig almost hung his head, but no. Had to keep going.

"Fucking go, bastard!" A hand grabbed his, yanking him from his short-lived respite. The small group dashed again, trying to block out the screaming and guns that seemed to be all around them. Couldn't be real. He had no time to contemplate the order, just kept going, boots stomping on the ground.

Just run. For all of his wishing and trying, he couldn't put everything else out of his mind. Not if he wanted to live. Not if he didn't want to live. This noise echoed too much for any kind of peace.

They bumbled, gasping, through the backdoor of a fast food joint. Gilbert fumbled with closing the door, switching the lock on it for a measurement of protection. He slumped to the floor, relief making him limp. At least if they were found, the lock would give them extra protection and thus extra time, and they'd be well alerted. Ludwig declined to sit on the greasy floor, leaning against a counter instead. The light bulbs above them burned with harsh artificial lighting. "Safe...for now," he mumbled.

Antonio dragged a stool from under a counter to sit on, panting the heaviest out of all of them, being the only one who didn't spend hours running daily. "Just...need to...rest a minute..."

Feliciano evidently had other ideas, interrupting their respite with an outburst of, "What the fucking hell just happened!"

Gilbert and Ludwig looked up, surprised at the outburst. The brothers stared as Feliciano reached out, grabbing Antonio by the shoulders, shaking him. Ludwig lurched, ready to pull them apart, but stopped as Antonio pulled the aggressive Italian into a hug. He froze, not confident if that action would calm the unusual behavior.

"It's okay, we're okay," Antonio hushed, keeping firm hold of Feliciano. "We're in a restaurant. McDonald's, I think. We're safe right now. You don't have to do anything."

"There were guns," Feliciano growled, grasping for something to cling to, to blame them for. "Guns, you bastard."

"And we're away from the guns." Antonio kept a level voice despite the frantic stressed Italian. Dragging the subject away from that violent topic, he said, "My blood sugar's low. Can you help me find something to eat?"

Feliciano fumbled to get off his backpack, nearly dropping it in his haste. He dug in his bag, pills rattling. Antonio just watched with a strange calm on his face, giving reassuring noises and nods. Feliciano presented a bag of peanuts in his shaky hands, furrowing his brow in odd concentration, his eyes struggling to keep the other teen in focus. "This- this is food, right?" Ludwig spotted the tightness in his mouth, the hitch in his throat on that repeat, and realized that maybe he was watching something not for him. He he stepped back as Antonio gave a quite confirmation.

Gilbert caught his eye, staring at him, judging him for watching. Ludwig blushed and folded his arms over his chest, getting a chuckle out of his brother. Even cozy as they were in this small area for minimum wage employees, peeking in on personal conversations had a feel of voyeurism to it.

"So what do we do when night comes?" Gilbert asked, bringing Ludwig's thoughts to the present. His brother shrugged.

"Keep moving. We have to get away before those...people...can find us." Not men. Men didn't kill the innocent. Rest would come when they were dead and in a bed of soil.

"What about the zombies?" Again, everyone looked to him for direction. Feliciano retreated to a dark corner, but even he looked to the blond. "They'll come out again at night."

"I'm concerned about them, too," Ludwig admitted. "But they will keep them away as long as we're close. By proxy, they protect us." Was he talking about the soldiers or the diseased mob? He couldn't tell anymore. They both stood on the opposite side of us vs them as the group of students.

"Get killed by guns or by zombies," sneered Feliciano. "What great options, I can't decide which I like better."

"Everyone else is still out there," Antonio spoke up between munching on nuts, pointing all attention to him. "Anyone who managed to get away, like us." There had to be other people who escaped those guns.

Ludwig closed his eyes, having a moment of silence. Mathias. Gunned down by men he probably worked alongside, maybe trained side-by-side with. He sighed, opening his eyes again to glance over his own comrades, almost brothers by similar circumstances. By their rapidly-changing expressions and hands that didn't know what to do, their minds raced with anything other than respectful mourning. Against himself, he grudgingly sighed, "We have to find those people."

Maybe if they found those other survivors, he could take a break from this leadership position. It was a weight on his shoulders, being responsible for his classmates' safety and well-being. He'd never been much of a people person, much less a leader with followers. For others, the chance to be a leader by election might have been desired, even compared to winning the lottery for someone to pick them to raise on a pedestal - but Ludwig felt different. This was certainly not a lottery prize, and being relied on for survival was a heavy burden. Maybe he had a god complex, and that was why he hadn't shoved off this role to someone else.

Slowly, Antonio nodded. "Strength in numbers," he stated.

"Maybe we'll find Toni's new boyfriend," Gilbert joked, trying to crack a smile.

Feliciano punched a blushing Antonio in the shoulder, an action the victim apparently didn't mind. "Idiot. You just want someone to suck face with." Antonio rubbed the back of his head, sheepish.

They waited close to an hour. They monitored the windows, peeking out through blinds they pulled down in case anyone wanted a peek inside. Antonio sat out of guard duty, refilling his insulin pump. He threw away the empty glass bottle, putting the syringe away back in his bag without cleaning, against standard health procedures. It made Ludwig shudder. But then again, it might be a while before they came across something sterilized. Especially since it seemed they were in a disaster area.

Feliciano, jittery, stuck by Ludwig. A change from how the Italian had been terrified when they first met, but he'd accept it if it meant he stayed close. After one last check out the windows, they cracked open the front door. Water seeped in, rising just above the parking lot asphalt. Their sneakers squelched in the water, an orange-brown from all the mud and clay in it from broken river walls. Regardless, they braced themselves, and started out. Ludwig went first, followed closely by Feliciano.

No shots rang out. Gilbert and Antonio sucked in their fears, and followed at a lagging pace, just in case. The water, surrounding scattered patches of raised land, had pooled in the basins designed for such a purpose. Overflowed, even, and still moved like rushing water as a river would over the lower areas and the worn strips of road. The opaque brown kept them from seeing how deep they were about to plunge their foot down, but they had lived long enough in this county to understand what was drowning.

Ludwig pointed their direction out, and the three followed like lost puppies that tried their hardest to look like anything else. Water behind them cupped the sun, splaying their legs with more orange. That marked a countdown, but none of them knew just how long they had until that clock ran out.

Antonio kept glancing upwards, trying to spot a helicopter or something searching for survivors, but Ludwig had already dropped hope for that solace after the scenario with Mathias. Anything searching for them wouldn't be friendly. Just had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Feliciano carefully followed his steps, watching to see where it was safe to walk without plunging into a pothole and soaking himself. Ludwig was like a big tree! Better to let him make sure the way was safe for cute, bite-sized Feliciano! ...at least, that was how he thought the idea sounded in his little tagalong's mind.

Plowing through the muddy water, still coming in small but persistent waves across the lot, was a slow venture. Slower than making the trek along the highway, no doubt. Dinner was a fleeting thought, adrenaline making their stomachs flip at the reminder most of them hadn't eaten in hours. Never mind that it wouldn't be coming from a home-cooked source when they finally sat down, they had no time to eat. Trying to move fast between areas of cover against the figures in the distance, like plastic toys they all had buried at the bottom of packed-away boxes full of childhood toys, food edged at the bottom of the list of priorities.

Feliciano wavered and stumbled. Ludwig barely caught him as the boy went limp, his heart jumping at the fear of something horrible. Had the flu struck him? Exhaustion? Injury? Maybe he'd been shot after all-

A sigh of relief escaped him as Feliciano pushed himself back up, although clung to Ludwig for balance, unsteady on his feet. "Sh, shush, sh," he insisted, quieting the boy as he roused himself again. "C'mon, keep moving." Antonio shot them a frightened glance, but that dropped once he saw the two continuing on.

Giant vans and monster-size cars, despite their carbon footprint, were a godsend in that tense moment. The group, one by one, crept around the higher ground, cars shielding them from the toy soldiers, controlled by a ruthless child playing war. Ludwig found himself yanking Feliciano behind mechanical blockades, as if the other had suddenly forgotten why they were hiding at all.

Who was he kidding? They'd never survive if he let any of the others take charge. Better to just swallow his protests and bark orders.


	10. A Conflict of Interests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: guns, injury, blood, menstruation mention, military, death, character intro
> 
> Two new challengers! Basch and Lily!

"Stand down, soldier."

Basch's grip on the gun held strong and still. The muzzle of his gun yawned at the officer several feet in front of him. Military fatigues covered both of them, presenting a conflict of brother against brother, only a vague acknowledgment of higher rank on the taller of the two in the cramped corridor. Three, Basch wasn't about to forget. Small hands gripped the back of his jacket tight, sweaty hands shaky. That little girl, Basch wasn't about to forget for a second.

"No."

The commanding officer didn't so much as sigh. He reasserted his warning, "I said, stand down. That is an order, soldier."

Basch knew it was a stupid decision. How could it not be, surrounded by hundreds of armed soldiers who would turn on him in a minute?

Three shots rang out in quick succession, taking down the soldier without hesitation. Basch turned on his heel, scooping up the girl to put her ahead of him, forcing them onward. They stumbled around the body, Basch stooping to snatch the gun from the dead man's hand. You could never have enough guns. He continued running, shoving the gun through his belt loop, too busy at the moment to think of a safer place to keep it. Boots stomped on the hard floor, many more than their two pairs, shouts joining them as alarm went through the building. The sound of gunshot acted like a firecracker, setting off a chain of events that would, ultimately, lead to the intruders being caught. Military personnel were not without their drills and plans in case of every possible scenario.

"Bags, Lily, bags," Basch snapped, reminding her of their mission. He kept an ear out for the twists and turns of the building turned barracks, expecting someone to jump out at them from any doorway and at every corner. Lily did her best to keep on her feet, but Basch heard her new boots slip around on the linoleum, nearly skidding and losing her pace, the new shoes too squeaky new to have considerable traction on the floor. Regardless, they kept going, Basch's hands gripping to his gun, ready to move his finger to the trigger to shoot. However, he wouldn't let his finger hover over the trigger until he was ready. Until they were sufficiently threatened. Basch and Lily were only children, after all. Most of the soldiers hesitated at the sight of their short adversaries.

Most. Not all.

Those remaining outliers didn't comfort Basch very much. But he had to keep going, keep pressing on. He skidded as a door bumped. After a second, the door didn't rattle again, and the shouts and stomping surrounding them didn't let up, relentless. Basch sprinted forward down the hall, ushering Lily on with him.

They skidded down steps, Basch taking them two at a time, running a spare hand over the wall, searching for a light. Lily found it first, jumping up to pull on a string, the bulb bursting into life. Basch blinked in the sudden myriad display of colors, and nearly tumbled into a crate once the stairs stopped, putting out his hands in front of him. He couldn't help but grin.

"Crowbar!" He felt rough, cold metal rap against his hand, and he wasted no time in sheathing his gun, and shoved the end of the crowbar into the edge of the crate. It came free with a crack at a good, hard yank, and Lily dived forward, cramming the vacuum-sealed packages in her backpack. Basch moved on to the next crate, slamming it open with the same technique. Bullets. Next crate; more military gear. The next, he came at with less strength, tiring, and hit it a second and third time before it could be pried open.

Basch cracked a grin. "We've struck gold," he told Lily, taking his own bag to start cramming it with cases of bullets and sealed packages. The bullets only matched the gun he'd picked up in this place, but he could hang on to them. It wasn't ideal, having bullets for only one gun, but he could find others some other time. They didn't have all the time in the world, and all too soon, the thundering came closer, showering down debris at them from above, knocking caked dust from the ceiling. Basch and Lily crammed what they could in their bags and pockets, ignoring the military gear. They had enough of that.

Basch signaled to Lily, and she closed her bag with a click, following his gestures as they hurried their way to find an alternate exit. Compared to the thunder of the soldiers, they were like mice, pitter-pattering away in the dark. Basch kept a hand on the wall, another hand prepared with his gun, and Lily tugged at the back of his jacket, trailing behind as she kept up. It was almost ridiculous that they didn't bump into another soldier, seeing as they should have been filling the barricades like bees in a hive. But everyone was above, on the higher levels- Basch nearly growled. The high levels included the ground floor, in this case. They'd need to go up again if they wanted to escape anytime soon.

A shot ran out, and Basch was glad for the squeak he heard from Lily. Meant she hadn't been hit. Meant she wasn't dead. Basch grit his teeth, and forced himself to keep running. He felt Lily's boots skid, trying to pull him back, then stumbled in an attempt to keep up with him. He zigzagged, side to side, but all he found was more wall. Nothing to hide behind. A few more shots rang out, and Basch realized they were getting closer to the source. A spark, a small illumination, and Basch charged for it, tackling the man who'd been shooting at them the same time a shot rang out. The didn't stumble far, and Basch managed to slam the man's head into the wall when they came to it. Enough to disorient. Not enough to kill, or even make him pass out. These things never worked out like they did in movies.

But Basch expected that. His gun came up, and a hard tap with the barrel against the temple, the man went limp against him. Basch pushed away, letting him fall to the floor. He didn't allow himself time to check if the man was still alive, straightening up and trying to think of what felt wrong... "Lily!" He turned around, and dived for her, the girl no longer glued to the back of his jacket. Basch skidded around, patting the ground to find his sister in the darkness. His fingers felt fabric and a soft through his gloves, and he stopped, being gentle, but trying to hurry. "Lily," he breathed, but didn't relax since he'd found her. She was shaking, that he could tell, and she gasped out, "Big brother. It hurts."

Basch nearly cursed, but kept calm and collected for her sake. "Where does it hurt?" he whispered, voice gentle, but quiet, hurried, well aware there were others around who would want to hurt them, even kill them. Then, he froze, liquid seeping through his gloves, staining his fingers. He felt her react under him, her body tensing and muscles spasming under his hands. "Lily, please tell me..."

He didn't know what he wanted to hear her say. That she'd gotten her period? It was a silly, hopeful thought, that she'd get her period in all the stress and adrenaline at a young age, and shock of a grazing shot knocked her down. But instead, his fingers explored farther out, and found it was isolated to a section of her calf. Basch prayed no tendons or muscles had been cut. "My leg," she gasped.

"I know," he murmured in reply, grabbing for his pack now that he knew the problem. No chance for his hands to shake, no time for hesitation over treating his little sister. One of the pouches at the side of the bag, he remembered. Had the whole layout of his bag memorized, all in his head, ready for just such an occasion. Gauze. That's all he needed right then. He grabbed her leg, trying to be gentle, but he didn't miss the sudden sucking in of air from her. Basch worked mechanically, wrapping the roll around her calf, covering the blood; thick enough to be useful, tight enough to keep it from moving in the rest of their escape. "Can you stand?" he asked, a little gruffly, tucking the gauze back into its place. He'd likely need it again before the end of the day, to replace the bandage on her leg and add some antibiotics. Gun wounds always had the possibility of becoming infected.

Lily must have nodded, but he couldn't see it, and he found her arms and back to help her to her feet. He heard a mumbled acknowledgment from her. She stumbled at first, but caught her balance, and latched on to Basch's jacket again. They had to move slowly, but what was important was that they had to move. Basch hated to admit it, but he was impatient, and tugged at her before she was ready. Guilt pierced his heart when he heard her squeak in pain as she was forced to place too much weight on her hurt leg. Basch forced himself to stop being so soft, and pushed on, recalling to mind the layout of the building. Find the stairs, get out; that was the plan. That had what they came for. Spending another night here would be too risky, not after they'd just ransacked the meal rations and supplies. Basch grimaced, and readied his gun, hearing boots ahead of them.

Light flared. Basch spared no time in waiting for the fuzzy colors to clear from his eyes, taking aim on the darker blobs and shooting each twice. It wasn't the three that would take down an assailant in good time and for the least suffering, but bullets had suddenly upped their value. Resources had to be used sparingly. Still, he heard some bullets ricochet, some thunk into hard objects, and a few bodies slumped to the floor. Nothing jumped out at them or tried shooting a second time. "Can you keep going?" he hissed to Lily, her hands heavy on his jacket. "They'll have heard the shots." She limped, but Basch could hear small gasps and her shuddering breath as she moved.

Even so, she nodded and breathed out a positive, insisting she could keep going like the trooper she was. Basch continued on, ignoring a wheezing soldier on the floor, besides taking a moment to kick the gun away from him. It wouldn't be enough to stop a determined soldier if it turned out he was not as injured as Basch had assumed, but it was the best he could do to save them a few seconds in their escape. They kept going, Basch being sure to provide Lily with support as they made their way up the stairs like a good big brother. Surprisingly, the rest of their escape went unhindered, as if the soldiers were preoccupied with something else. Whatever it was, Basch wasn't complaining. Better the soldiers and another party fighting each other than leaving one free to run after the siblings.

Their escape was more a march. They marched away from the sounds of over a hundred soldiers rushing to prepare for a war against their own kind, and against those who had couldn't be called human anymore. Leaning against each other, the brother and sister made their way away from one stronghold armed to the teeth.

Lily tapped his shoulder. Basch didn't look up. "There's people in the distance. Going the other way."

Basch grunted in a grim affirmation. "That's what distracted them, then. We keep going. We don't want anyone, dead or alive, knowing where we are. We're enough, as long as we have each other." A small giggle brought a smile to his lips.

"The sunset is beautiful today."

"I'm sure it is." Hard to believe they'd spent nearly a whole 24 hours in that building, waiting for the perfect moment to enact their plan. "...remind me that we have to check for any unwanted guests when we get home."

Home. They weren't sure many others would be able to say that for a good while.


	11. Broken Vase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: mental illness, ableist slur, Lovino's cursing

Gooey Ashes

Dark sobs in a dark room. Suitable for a dark time. The small group settled in their own corners, each having claimed a corner of books or a chair to rest. Candles, vanilla, cinnamon, and cedar, flickered in their metal cages, keeping the goblins in the dark at bay. Electronic lights were too strong, too risky. They should have been safe, in a small store up on a steep hill. The flood that pulsated outside should have been a good moat to keep them a good distance from the makeshift stronghold. But the groans and slap of wet flesh made their way through the heavy silence.

Finally, Ludwig spoke up, staring at the floor. "Feliciano, please..." The plea trailed off. He knew he had to be gentle, after these past few days of raw emotion. Nonstop running. Nonstop fear. Stress on the body and mind.

"He can't help it," Antonio said, stroking the Italian's hair. His somber tone irked the entire room. They'd suffered just as much, hadn't they? Everyone's eyes glistened with tears they refused to weep. Why, out of all of them, did Feliciano have to break now? They could hear those things. It was logic to assume those things would be able to hear them, in turn.

Gilbert's teeth made a sharp sound, gnashing against each other. Silence was golden in the night, and Ludwig felt himself thankful his brother restrained his voice. "Kid needs to get it together already. It's not going to get any easier. Suck it up."

A lost brother. Lost father. Lost friend. Lost mother. They'd all lost someone dear to their hearts. Feliciano whined and the sobs became muffled, no doubt lost in Antonio's jacket. The Spaniard went silent - hesitating, that much Ludwig could gather - before replying, "He has these depressive episodes, and I think he has a migraine, too. Hard love isn't going to help anything."

"Ach." Gilbert made a noise in the back of his throat, on the edge of seething. "Should've told us earlier-"

"When?" Ludwig heard his own raspy voice ask. When could they have possibly sat down and talked over any of this? Certainly not while grief weighed down on all of them.

"Well, what if it happened during a crisis?" Gilbert didn't back down, his voice hissing in a harsh whisper. "Not telling us is just asking for trouble."

Antonio sighed. "What if," he started, "What if you just thought that made him a burden? Like my diabetes."

Low blow. No one wanted to bring that up. Let them ignore that reality for a little while longer, please?

"I'll die once I run out of insulin," Antonio pointed out, continuing on that grim train of thought, scraping up their reluctant empathy. "This puts him out of commission for a few hours. You barely know him. What's stopping you from deciding to throw him to those things outside when he's just dead weight to drag around?"

"Shut up, both of you," Ludwig snapped, and everyone's eyes darted to the door, wary of their volume attracting unwanted attention. Glass, curtains, bookcases, and chairs would be like drywall to the monsters outside. His voice hushed, if cracked. "We can't let anyone else die. If they can be saved, we'll save them."

"Lud." That childhood nickname he could never shake. Ludwig was supposed to be the leader here, not some kid. "That's...heroic of you." He could hear the thick tears, and the heavy intake of air. "But this isn't some story on the internet. You can't save everyone."

He let a sigh leave through his nostrils, coming out in a huff. "I'm not trying to be a hero," he said, his voice flat, unwilling to argue. "Let him cry it out. Try to get some sleep."

Sleep. What a joke.

Shuffling came from Antonio's corner. Feliciano started to lightly struggle against the older boy, pushing his head harder into him. "Shush," Antonio tried, stroking his hair. He frowned at the responding flinch. "You don't need to do that. It's okay. You're safe."

Safe. Another joke. What a sardonic mood Ludwig was in.

Gilbert didn't let up a glare in the dim light. Antonio let Feliciano pull away, but yanked him back as he came too close to a candle. Dazed, Feliciano didn't protest, and struggling dropped to a minimum. He squirmed in Antonio's grip, and stopped, his amber eyes scanning over the mismatched group and their hiding place. His jaw dropped, and small sounds came from that open mouth, unable to form coherent syllables.

"You're safe," Antonio repeated that horrible lie, continuing to soothe the boy. "You remember what happened, right? The flu, running... We're holed up in a bookstore. We can't be too loud, Lovi, they'll hear us." ...was that a Spanish saying? Lo vi. Ludwig raised an eyebrow at what was bordering on baby talk, but he knew too little about Romance languages to make any kind of judgment call. But the word caught Feliciano's attention, and he blinked, collecting himself.

Then he was scrambling to his feet, the underclass student shaky and almost losing his balance. Antonio was right there to hold onto him, keep him from stumbling into a collection of books and wake the dead. They whispered words, too quiet, into each others' ears, and Antonio guided the other to the bathroom in the back of the store. Gilbert clung to his crowbar, wary of any area of the store they'd neglected to check out, but no yells came from the two. A stomach growled. Neither reached for their bags, both losing their appetites while more growls continued outside.

Antonio returned alone, sitting between the brothers. He glanced at the two, a serious expression on his face. The brothers glanced to each other, then to Antonio. No actual communication passed between any of them. Well, none of that Ludwig was aware of. Things just didn't work out the same way as they did in movies or books or...whatever else. That weird tentacle doujinshi under Gilbert's bed definitely didn't count as being anything close to realistic.

"Since Gilbert brought it up," Antonio started. Ludwig aimed a glare at his brother. "There's something else you two should know. Feli should really be the one to tell you, so I'm only prepping you. I want both of you to sit quietly, and if you can't say anything nice, don't say it at all." He looked up at a shadow playing in the candles, and waved the last member of their group over. He wrapped the Italian in a warm hug, acting in lieu of a security blanket. "Introduce yourself, Lovi."

Ludwig didn't know whether to laugh or cry. They already knew this kid as Feliciano; what more was there? A memory of a Disney fairy tale movie flickered through his thoughts, where a princess hid among highschoolers, pretending to be a rustic teen living with a small family in a quaint cottage by the swamp, but he somehow doubted that Feliciano was a prince in hiding. Stuff like that was just too ridiculous to be real life. Glancing to Gilbert beside him, it didn't look like his brother took this too seriously, either. More like trying to figure out if they'd cracked in more ways than one.

"My name is Lovino," came the mumbled, grumbled introduction from within the human security blanket. Ludwig and Gilbert nodded slowly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I'm Feliciano's 'brother', you could call me. Basically, I'm the voice in his fucking crazy head."

Ah. There it was.

The German brothers stared, faces stoic in stupified confusion, their brains too frazzled at this unexpected weird news to figure out how to react. Antonio whined, snuggling Lovino, who looked like he'd rather be outside with the horde of rotting flesh. "Lovi, I told them to be nice. You're more than just a voice."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm Feliciano, and this is a set of behaviors I adopt to deal with stressful situations, and I call myself Lovino while I throw a hissy fit."

"That's worse. Where did you even get that one?" Antonio sighed, giving up on letting Lovino explain, and addressed the silent brothers, "He has Dissociative Identity Disorder. This is one of his identities, as Lovino. They share a body, basically. It's kind of like magic out of a fantasy book, actually."

"Ah..." Ludwig cleared his throat, and awkwardly held out a hand. The hand was glared at, and he instead moved it away to rub the back of his head. "Nice to meet you, Lovino. I'm Ludwig, and this is my brother, Gilbert."

He vaguely heard his brother groan and bury his face in his bag, grumbling about, "Zombie apocalypse, and I'm surrounded by idiots..."

"See?" Lovino hissed at Antonio, pushing away his human security blanket. "They're not buying it. This is a waste of time."

"Aw, come on guys, this is really important to Lovi and Feli..."

Ludwig scooted closer, hoping he didn't scare Lovino this time, and said, feeling a bit like the dork his brother always said he was, "I believe you, Lovino."

Antonio lit up. "Great!" Instantly, everyone shushed him and gave him dirty glares, and Antonio lowered his voice again. "Great, yeah. See, Lovi? Ludwig accepts you. Make friends."

Making friends seemed to be at the bottom of Lovino's to-do list, from Ludwig's perspective. If Lovino was a cat, he wouldn't want to try petting him. "Ahm, how does this work?" He really wasn't sure if this was treading on sensitive territory, and tried not to show how nervous he was. "With your...brother."

Lovino scowled, not missing the hesitation. "We take turns in charge of the body, whoever is in control is 'fronting', what we call it. We can't control it and sometimes it's both of us, our memories are all fucked up, and it's confusing, so don't bother trying to analyze our bullshit," Lovino explained dismissively. "That's all you need to know, bastard. Don't dig into our life. And don't be weird about it." He turned away, to be comforted against his will by a lovable Spaniard who thought he needed emotional support. Ludwig felt a little wilted by that response, but kept quiet, and drew back into the corner with his brother.

Gilbert raised his head from the bag, and drew in a deep breath. "We got stuck with the crazy person," he groaned. "Go to sleep. We can talk when there's no ambiance of hungry zombies in the background."

In their respective corners, each survivor did their best to make themselves comfortable, albeit the lack of blankets and abundance of chilling knowledge of what lurked outside made that difficult.

\--------

Another day, another morning of relief. There wasn't much of it to brig smiles, but looking out the open door to a street devoid of zombies, and glancing back to see three bodies alive and well, it brought at least a sigh.

All of them rubbed at their eyes, and the Bad Touch Duet made groaning noises bemoaning how they couldn't roll over for more sleep. Two days of running around and two sleepless nights sunk in all too quickly.. The fatigue drained at them, and they pulled themselves up to sit next to the register, collecting to dig through their bags for the energy to make it through another draining day. Antonio stuck a still-wrapped candy bar in his mouth, and Ludwig pulled it out again. They needed something that would last.

Grimly, Gilbert dropped a few cans of beans on the rough carpet with a thud, upsetting the balance of breakfast and dinner.

"It's brinner," he decided, making up a new word for this vile idea. "Other than candy and nuts, and some sugar-laden granola bars we should really save for when we're in a pinch, this is what we've got." Trying to inject a little humor into the idea, he "Hey, at least the sooner we eat these, the lighter our load to carry will be."

"Maybe we should eat you," Lovino grumbled. "The sooner we do it, the sooner you shut the fuck up."

Ludwig sighed. First thing in the morning, and already there was animosity.

"So now you're a cannibal in addition to cray. ...anyone got a can opener?"

That sigh turned into a groan. "Out of all the things you stuffed in our bags, all that preparing for the worst...and you forget to grab a can opener?" He gaped at his brother. Gilbert raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, hey, he one we had at home was all rusted, and we can't all get tetanus shots in the middle of the zombie apocalypse."

"Fucker, there's one behind you," Lovino grumbled, shoving past them to get to the magnetic board displaying what novelty magnets they had on sale. He tore off the tag, much to the consternation of Ludwig, and jammed it into the can to get working on opening it.

"That's not very..." Safe, Ludwig almost said, considering how Lovino looked like he'd lived with electronic can openers all his life from the way he kept poking dents in the top of the can. But he just sighed, deciding it wouldn't get much of a response except maybe a swear word. Every other sentence of the...ah...the identity seemed to contain a swear word.

After some grunting and a hiss as the can opener slid over the metal can to scrape his finger, Lovino dropped the can. He looked up, and flushed at everyone staring. He roughly nudged the can and opener over to Ludwig, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Assholes... Whatever happened to those people in the cars? I don't remember any of you idiots stopping to offer someone else help."

Antonio flinched at the accusation of being selfish, Gilbert bristled at the tone that rubbed him the wrong way, while Ludwig just sighed again. "What people?" Ludwig asked, humoring him. The cold smell of syrupy butter beans cracked through the lingering air of paraffin candles. "Everyone ran. Nobody could drive past all the abandoned cars."

Lovino glared at him, raising an eyebrow. "You seriously believe everyone could get up and run?" He snorted, but there was no humor behind it. "Toddlers, old people - hell, anyone in a wheelchair. You seriously think those people got away?"

He had a point, Ludwig grudgingly agreed. None of those people would be able to escape like they had. But - "In the cars? We didn't see anyone in the cars. We haven't seen anyone besides that bus." A bus full of survivors. He tried not to think about how they might have been gunned down before they could escape.

"Feli- Lovino- whatever your name is-" Gilbert waved it off, not even looking at the student in question. "Nobody's out there. The cars were empty. You're not going to start thinking we attacked you, are you? 'Cuz I don't want you to flip out and kill us out of nowhere."

Lovino flipped him the bird. "Thanks for the idea, dickhead."

Ludwig's group certainly was made up of mature individuals.


	12. Buzzing Crowds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: zombies, eating, Lovino's swearing, dismembered limbs, mention of eugenics again, hints of germano. Day 2

Gooey Ashes

Day 2

"People in wheelchairs can't just get up and go in this mess, and what about all the pets? Everyone always goes on about pets being family, but there's strays, and not everyone is seriously going to waste a few seconds to grab beloved Spot or Fifi."

Thirty minutes later, teeth numb with sticky sodium, the group stepped over the mess of the flimsy barricade they'd dismantled. Thoroughly tired of Lovino's insistence on solving the mystery of other survivors, because, "I don't believe we're the only idiots in town to survive the effing apocalypse," they'd stopped replying to him. He scowled and took that to mean they didn't want to address the truth.

"Maybe we should have just eaten the candy," of all people, Antonio spoke up, blinking in the sunlight. "I never thought eating cold beans out of the can would be like eating straight salt."

"Cars!" Lovino lurched for the cars, abandoned in the parking lot, but stumbled to a stop, staring in horror as he caught a glance of beyond the hill.

"But hey! We got more room in our inventory from getting rid of those cans! And you didn't get high!"

"Did you really make more room, when you replace that stuff with books?"

Lovino made a keening noise, raising a hand like a dead man to point out past the parking lot, at the water-swallowed county. He glanced back to the group, eyes pleading for denial. But the sleep-deprived Antonio and Gilbert didn't notice the distress.

"Hey, these books are pretty important! They're survivalist books, exactly for these types of situations!"

"They're books, it's not like we're going to be out here for long. There's got to be rescue parties to pick up survivors."

Ludwig watched Lovino, his mouth open and closing, feeling awkward. He held out a hand and, very cautiously, pat the lost Italian on the head. "...there was a flood," he stated. Way to be awkward and obvious at the same time, Ludwig.

"Did you not see what happened yesterday? I really doubt someone's gonna be out there trying to help us."

"Those guys were the exception. We can't just believe that the government isn't going to help us."

Lovino stood there frozen, leaving Ludwig at a loss for what to do. No reaction to the head patting, so he moved a little closer, and wrapped his arms around the smaller student. He pulled him closer, hoping Lovino wouldn't react too violently to the hug.

"Of course they aren't. Haven't you heard about the conspiracies? Area 51? The Illuminati? Watergate?"

Antonio didn't answer. "...Lovi usually only lets girls hug him."

Lovino seemed to come to his senses then, and Ludwig let go as the smaller started to push away. Not a moment too soon, as he narrowly avoided a knee to the groin. "We're not hugging! Don't make up stuff like that, bastard!" To his credit, Ludwig busied himself with checking the straps of his backpack as Antonio 'praised' Lovino for 'leaving his comfort zone'.

"Ah, so..." Ludwig cleared his throat. "Where do we go from here?"

After their conversation, Antonio and Gilbert didn't need more time to brainstorm.

"We need to find a good, protected building, and reinforce it into a fortress we can defend with our lives!"

"Find more survivors, and get someplace that isn't infected by the flu yet! Or into quarantine so that proper doctors can make sure we're not sick."

"Just jab a knife through my skull."

"Lovi, no..."

Imaginative. But not helpful.

"Lovino, do you have any other ideas?" he decided to ask, hoping he wouldn't regret it.

Lovino gave a dramatic sigh, as if it was a huge pain to offer his thoughts. "Whatever. We need food, right? So let's get food, and a place to store that food."

Ludwig nodded, absorbing all the ideas to come out with something they could all agree on. Lovino shook off Antonio as if he had some disgusting goo stuck on him, drifting close again to their unofficial leader.

"...that's actually the first sensible thing you've said this entire time since you started swearing," Gilbert commented, gaping at Lovino.

Lovino scowled. "Don't sound so surprised, dickhead."

"The point is," Ludwig sighed, trying to stop a fight before it could start. "Lovino's right. We need to protect ourselves from the.." Pause. He still couldn't bring himself to say it, and make it all the more real. "But we can't be stupid and think we can fight them head-on. We need shelter, and most importantly, we need food. Searching for help can come later, once we have enough to sustain ourselves in this emergency situation." He looked pointedly at Antonio, who seemed to sulk at the idea of food.

Gilbert grinned and rubbed his hands together. This was his time to shine, this was what all those zombie games had prepared him for. "Time to put all the plans into action!" What was this, a video game? "So we need a big place, tall, so we can be high up, but not something like a mall where we can't keep track of all the exits. We need to be able to guide it and have a protocol for everyone who comes in and out."

Ludwig mentally noted that all down, but his brother would likely repeat all that if asked. It looked like Antonio's head spun from all the information and Lovino-

Ludwig blinked. Lovino had somehow gotten under his hand again without him noticing, and he lightly pat that head of brown hair. The head lowered, sulking, but didn't pull away.

"We should get moving," he said. "A bookstore isn't the best place to spent more than one night in." For comfort and for safety. Too many windows, and no matter what any award-winning speaker said, books were not a greater force than zombies.

Lovino lurched under his hand. "Wait - we're going to wade through all this water? Are you bastards fish now?"

More awkward head pats, and Lovino slapped away his hand. "We have to move. You can ride on my back, but we're leaving." Antonio seemed the only other one mildly concerned about the water: "As long as we don't go through any deep water. I can't get my port wet."

"I'm not letting beefy macho-man give me a piggyback ride!"

Ludwig shrugged, and turned, trudging down the hill, to the water below. The depth had lowered some overnight, but it kept moving, the water trying to find its way to form a new river not shaped by human intervention.

"Wait a second!"

Ludwig slowed, and a from attached itself to his back. With something of a smirk, he knelt down, taking off his backpack. To his surprise, Lovino climbed right on, wrapping his legs around the giant's waist. Ludwig carefully stood up again, ignoring the sniggering from his brother. Antonio wisely kept his thoughts to himself.

Ludwig shuddered as he stepped in the muddy water, unable to avoid the water seeping into his boots. But it was the only way, not like they had any alternative-

He looked back at a choked laugh, and nearly groaned aloud. Antonio had the idea of shedding his shoes and socks first, giving Ludwig a sheepish look, probably for not telling him of the idea first. Gilbert followed Antonio's lead, pretending not to pay his little brother any mind.

"Sorry!" Antonio called to him, rolling up his pants. They'd thought of everything, it seemed. Ludwig could almost hear his internal conscience telling him, "You're an idiot." Oh, wait, that was just Lovino. The voice on his head, who was (by his own definition) a voice in Feliciano's head. So maybe it was someone else's conscience, technically?

This inane stream of thought gave him the strength to cross the physical stream without much more than a grimace. But once he crossed, he knelt to let Lovino off on the damp road, the flood having drained from the high areas of road, and pulled off his boots and socks. They didn't have any towels to dry with, but they could hope that air-drying would be suitable for the time being. Antonio and Gilbert didn't wait long before puling their shoes back on, but Ludwig was stuck carrying his soggy boots. He dropped and left the ruined socks on the ground; it would be easier to grab a new pair from a convenience sore than wait for the old pair to dry and hope for no mold in these conditions.

Lovino took the least time to get ready to continue walking, considering he hadn't gotten wet in the first place, although he scowled as his sneakers game wet squelches. Ludwig's heart sank when he noticed the other student peeking in ravaged cars for some sign of life. Illness didn't discriminate, Ludwig remembered painfully, no matter if you were rich or poor, white or black...or locked in a car. Didn't matter if it was a Mustang or a Volkswagen.

He did his best to be comforting when he walked over, feet sinking in cold, wet puddles across the road, and placed a hand on Lovino's shoulder. The Italian flinched, but he stopped walking. "...you said food, right? Ja. We should focus on that for now." He hoped he came off as comforting, with a warm voice promising rest and reassurance, but that had never been Ludwig's strong suit. His words came out awkward, overly rough, and commanding. But it had the desired effect, Lovino clenching his hands in fists and giving a nod. Ludwig sighed; that was the best he could hope for, he supposed. Would Feliciano have taken it better? Ludwig didn't know either of them well enough to tell for sure.

Antonio hopped over puddles, and Gilbert stomped right through them, collecting their wayward youngest, all collecting close in a group, giving the action some semblance of a familial bond. They all craved it, even if no one said anything.

"Let's go," it was Lovino who said it, breaking away from the group hug to start walking again, arms wrapped around himself in a self-hug. Antonio soon joined his side, and Gilbert and Ludwig lagged behind.

"Hey, Gil," Antonio spoke up, his tone rather somber for the normally perky Spaniard. Ludwig wondered if he'd ever seen him without some sort of smile or bright eyes while at school. "What kind of place did the We're Alive series use?"

Another video game reference? Ludwig turned his attention away from them, looking around, wishing that modern stores didn't have so many wide glass easy-to-shatter windows.

"They called it 'The Tower', so it was at least a really tall place... I like your thinking, Toni."

"They cleared it, room by room, and Bill held the entire top floor hostage..."

"Oh! That's it!" Gilbert snapped his fingers, and Ludwig's head swiveled back to him. "An apartment building! We should look for an apartment building!"

Ludwig sighed. "We live in an apartment building, Gilbert," he reminded his brother. "That didn't hold up very well, as I recall." Cheap drywall, and the chaos started inside the building.

Gilbert wilted, the smile falling from his face as he thought back to that. "Oh. Right. Maybe we just need a more expensive apartment building? Like a more touristy place?"

"What kind of moron would want to vacation in this shit-hole of a state? There's nothing but shitty corn for miles," Lovino griped. Ludwig, hurt, glanced to him, ready to tell him off, but the expression on Lovino's face wasn't belligerent. Just annoyed and critical.

Antonio didn't seem bothered by the attack on the place they all called home, nodding in agreement. "True... That's gonna be hard to find."

Gilbert's face reddened, and he spluttered for a moment, not sure how to reply to Lovino's sudden disparaging comment. In the end, he just gave a huff, nostrils flaring, and grumbled out a response to Antonio, "We have to look, anyway! It's one of our best options, unless we can find a fallout shelter!"

"Fallout shelters!" Antonio snapped his fingers as another idea came to him. "Other people are probably hiding in old World War II fallout shelters! Francis has a fallout shelter, he mentioned that he was hidden there. Maybe we could head in that direction, and join him. Boom, instant food, instant shelter, instant other people!"

"While that's all well and dandy," Ludwig started, squinting in the distance. ...Walgreens? Maybe they had socks. "Francis lives in a rural area, half an hour's drive away. It would take a long while to walk there."

Gilbert snorted. "Funny you should say that. We've got all the time in the world!" He held out his arms, spinning in a small circle like a ballerina in combat boots. He stumbled back a few steps as he caught his balance again, but his crooked smirk stayed in place. "We've got food, and the whole day ahead of us; we could spend this time heading to Francis! Then once we get there, there's instant shelter, and tons of empty land so we can see the zombies coming a mile away!"

"Just gotta..." He dug out his phone, and there was universal silence as he tapped on the screen, the thing safely encased in an Otter Box. Without it, Ludwig was sure the screen would be shattered beyond recognition - no, wait, it would be very recognizable. He'd recognize it as what all of Gilbert's phones ultimately looked like at the moment of their untimely deaths. "Hold on, satellite's not connecting. GPS doesn't work without satellite."

Ludwig sighed. There went that idea.

Extroverts, Ludwig soon realized this day, were exhausting. The initial shock that had quieted everyone the day before was over, or at least shoved to the side for the time being. Gilbert and Antonio had an opinion on everything, it seemed, and made no hesitation in letting the rest of the group know about it. And then they'd have a discussion, just the two of them. Humans adapted fast.

Convenience stores, they quickly came to realize, had been emptied. Not much stocked the shelved unless it had rolled under the displays to escape the rampage of two nights ago. The chatterbox duo even had on opinion on the two pairs of socks Ludwig found in the corner. He almost shoved a pair in Gilbert's mouth, but sighed and shoved it in his backpack instead. He wore the other pair, silencing their inane argument.

Lovino, worryingly, kept his mouth closed besides the occasional comment. Lovino hadn't had a day to work through his shock like the others had. The two quiet members of the group walked together, something Antonio got over after an hour. When their diabetic member started stumbling and slurring his words, the group unanimously agreed to stop for a quick lunch. The suggestion of beans was promptly shot down.

"Why not that Chinese place?" Antonio asked, pointing to a small gray building at a cluster of other small stores, the red kanji above still lit up in a humming red. "I've never had Chinese before. Or maybe I have. Can't remember much right now."

Gilbert put a hand on Antonio's shoulder before he could continue babbling. "Anything sounds good at this point. Any arguments? Speak now, or prepare to eat dumplings!"

Ludwig shrugged. "It looks kind of shady..." Then he sighed, watching as his brother hopped in that direction, make the decision for them and splashing water as the ground dipped. "...it's better than nothing."

The terrors of the world seemed far away, lost in the anticipation of a savory meal covered in sauce from packets they couldn't decipher. Almost childish. Ludwig felt an upward tug on his lips as the duo reached the small sticky restaurant, and Gilbert felt at the door's lock. Gray blinds closed it off from the world, just as the searing letters above proclaimed a loud welcome. Gilbert let out a cackle as the lock clicked, letting him wriggle the front door free.

"Ugh, smells like their buffet stuff didn't agree with someone or two."

Ludwig didn't think much of it at first, until Gilbert turned on the lights and the screaming started. More than two voices, Gilbert and Antonio at the forefront. Their screams drowned in the cacophony of more screams, guttural and shrieking and unnerving.

From beside him, Lovino bolted, running in the opposite direction as fast as his legs could take him. Antonio and Gilbert skittered back, falling over each other in their haste. A gray figure stretched into the light, jaw pulling unhinged in a desperate, unearthly plea.

Ludwig forced his own body to move, to run away from the danger, but found himself frozen. One foot stepped back, then the other one, too slow to be a match for the figures stretching out pale hands as they found freedom, clambering over one another, hundreds of hands bursting over one another in swarms as they all tried to get a handful of fresh air. Soiled clothes clung to bodies in rags, kept in place by sticky secretions moistening the fabric. His breath caught in his throat, staring at the two friends stumbling. Shock, adrenaline, and low blood sugar kept the teenagers from regaining enough control over their legs to run like Lovino had, and before he knew it, Ludwig's body moved on a different will. In a burst of adrenaline and his promise rising to mind, he ran forward, a scream of his own ripping from his throat.

Hands reached out to him, pale and clammy. Ludwig grabbed onto the flailing arms of Antonio and Gilbert, and hefted them to their feet, half-dragging them away. Gray figures tumbled out of the cramped doorway, and Ludwig couldn't tell where one of them ended and another began, almost as if they appeared to be an amalgamate blob of gray, millions of hands and gaping maws as it emerged from hell. The restaurant door had opened a portal to hell. Slimy, scabby hands pawed for Ludwig's clothes and bag, and something gripped hold of his backpack as he pulled the two away from the mass. Just put a bit of a gap, save them another few seconds.

The mass didn't seem to follow. They tried, Ludwig would give them that, but they all got stuck in the door, all trying to fall over each other. They spilled out as Ludwig managed to put a few more steps between them, tugging with him the one figure that had wrapped bones onto one of the handles of the hiking backpack.

Gilbert screamed, and the figure's scream changed pitch, raising into a siren tone that made Ludwig sure his eardrums would burst from it. He heard something crack, and the pressure eased from his backpack. He chanced a glance up. The fear didn't ebb at seeing only one disfigurement staggering after them into the light. It slowed, stopping moving, and tipped over, crumpling to the tarmac. Ludwig flinched as three more burst from the door, grueling yells ripping from their forms. Something dripped from them to the ground.

Away, away, Ludwig tried to remind his paralyzed mind, sliding into a mode of 'get things done' so he didn't have to think about the abominations a few feet away. He renewed his grip on Antonio and Gilbert, and kept moving. Away. Anywhere but toward the Chinese restaurant. Anywhere else in the world would be better right then. Another shriek turned to siren, and another choked. Rocks hit the ground, splashing in the water. A few managed to hit the walking horrors, tearing off bits of loose, scraggly flesh. Ludwig raced up to the higher ground, the main road, his mind so focused on dragging his friends away from the danger that he almost missed Lovino standing at the top of the hill, arms full of rocks. Their savior shook, trembling and dropping rocks, but continued to throw them as hard as he could toward the gray figures.

"Lovino!" Ludwig yelled to him, but any words died on his tongue as he caught a look of wild terror on Lovino's face. His mouth closed, and he yanked Antonio and Gilbert the last leg to close the distance between them and Lovino. He allowed himself a glance back toward the restaurant, and his heart felt like it started beating again. The gray figures that had managed to escape through the door collapsed in the parking spaces, their screams failing as they twitched. More tumbled from the door, but all fell prey to the same fate, curling on the ground in greasy, panting lumps.

"They're.." Antonio caught his breath first. "They're dying." Ludwig flinched at the sudden quiet cry, and couldn't help but stare as the Spaniard broke into tears. All that, all that was happening around them - Lovino continued to throw rocks - Gilbert took up the rock-throwing as well, even if his aim was shot from adrenaline - and Antonio was crying? He mumbled something about their group being okay, but didn't think that helped any.

Throwing rocks was a pointless act, Ludwig soon realized, considering the gray figures had stopped moving almost entirely. Many collected to collapse outside in the sun, but the door closed, locking many more away in the teeming restaurant. He wasn't sure whether to sigh in relief or freeze in terror.

Neither, seemed like a good choice, and Ludwig tore his eyes away to focus on his group. Antonio bawled his eyes out, Gilbert threw rocks as if that was their last defense, and Lovino-

The volatile Italian caught him off guard once more as Ludwig found himself tackled; there was a significant size and weight difference, so Ludwig barely moved, but Lovino yanked at the straps of his backpack, forcing it off him. Ludwig shouted in protest, but Lovino just screamed back at him. No coherent words, but no words seemed right to fit this situation. Surreal, maybe. Lovino threw down his bag into the watery road. He grabbed Ludwig's arm before the larger could go after it; it didn't so much as physically stop him, but it supplied enough surprise that he paused., and reevaluated the scene.

A hand, along with the arm it was attached it, had curled itself around one of the straps on the backpack, bone and skin ripped from a missing body, no doubt down in the parking spaces outside the Chinese restaurant. Gray and slimy, and Ludwig could see similar gray patches that had smeared on the back of his bag. He grimaced. That'd be hard to pick up and carry around again. When Gilbert glanced over to see the commotion, a rock fell from his hand. "That's sick. I vote for burning it!"

"Agreed," Lovino spat. Ludwig glanced between the two.

"Hold on- Don't I get a say in this?" He asked, submitting an appeal to be reviewed by these two strict judges. "I thought we needed the supplies in that bag!"

Gilbert gave a slow nod. "...we do need as much as we can carry," he considered. "There a store around we could raid for another bag?"

Ludwig sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Preferably a store without any unexpected customers. ...speaking of, what is that sound?"

He lowered his voice, looking around them in the distance, thinking there was another one of those...people in need of medical help. Gnarled, wheezing breaths like those his father had made on the way to the hospital. His eyes landed on Antonio, who swayed on his feet, his breathing labored as if it would be best someone handed him a bucket. Ludwig's mind worked overdrive, matching symptoms to possible disease, internally checking and double checking if it matched the symptoms of the mysterious flu that had caused such chaos...

Lovino was a bag of surprises, as he marched over, stuffing what looked like a cream egg into Antonio's hands. He helped his friend unwrap it, shooting a glare at Ludwig as he did so, as if the resident wannabe doctor should have taken control of the situation, and guided the chocolate to Antonio's mouth. Antonio was reluctant, making a whining sound at first, but after some swearing Lovino got him to open his mouth and accept the sugar treat.

"...ah." Ludwig cleared his throat, coughing into his elbow, trying to hide his blush. "Yes, good job, Lovino," he awkwardly stated, the most lackluster praise ever. Low blood sugar. Of course. That made sense. They'd been trying to get food for that exact problem just barely minutes ago. Had it really been minutes ago that he'd been watching the duo laugh and bump shoulders? The attack and adrenaline still stayed fresh, but each beat of his heart felt all at once to last an hour and less than a second at the same time. Not real, yet oh, so horribly real.

As he watched Antonio slowly gain control over himself again, Ludwig became aware that his own hands were shaking. He clenched his hands in fists, then relaxed them, breathing out as he did so, easing up some of the tension. "...maybe we could find another place with food," he started, and added at the alarmed reactions, "Somewhere with a lot of windows we can look in through first. Like...McDonald's." A greasy food place where the burgers never rotted, but it was the first option to come to mind.

Tentatively, the rest of the group nodded, and Ludwig found a familiar someone latching on to his arm again. "We'll get your bag later," Lovino mumbled. He felt oddly warm at that promise.


	13. Stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: guns, Scottish accents, man vs man conflict, mention of ableism
> 
> New challengers approach! Alistair (Scotland)! Natalya (Belarus)! Emma (Belgium)! Abel (Netherlands)!
> 
> As conditions get worse, tensions rise, and more characters are pushed to the breaking point, there will be more disagreements and ableism between characters.

Gooey Ashes

The crew were all close to dropping from exhaustion as they made their slow way up the stairs, doing their best to make as little noise as possible, shielding phone lights to give the bare minimum amount for navigating one foot in front of the other. Outside, the whole street lit up. Beacons of light radiated in stores and on lampposts, illuminating a world they preferred to have remained dark. With sickening hope, they could imagine everyone just had too much to drink, milling about in a sleepy, drunken stupor.

Sweat and scrapes clung to them, reminding them all too much of the new meaning of night. Another flight of stairs, and they came to a room with a working door. A small family-owned clothes store, so not much expense was paid on fancy automatic glass sliding doorways. A quick check showed a pristine room, nothing lying in wait to ambush them.

"Must've been closed when the apocalypse started," Antonio said, and got a quick reprimand from Gilbert in return; "Keep your voice down. Remember - we snuck past zombies just to get in here."

Zombies. No matter how many times Gilbert insisted on using that word, Ludwig felt the urge to roll his eyes. This time, he was too spent to do any eyeball acrobatics, and let the urge pass. "Find a clear space, and grab as many blankets and soft clothing you can find - we'll sleep close together, just to keep an eye on everyone." He whipped around at Feliciano's squeak of surprise, then sighed, shoulders sagging. "...and take down the mannequins."

Too tired to argue, the group went off, communicating in whispers. The small windows that would usually give the room a feeling as if it was bigger than it actually was were quickly covered up, large tent-like dresses hung like curtains. Ludwig found a carpeted area near the clearance section, and they collected sweaters, ponchos, scarves, and knit cardigans, along with several plain shirts, to throw in the center. Finally they collapsed on the pile, no one making a comment on how awkward it felt to sleep so close together. Antonio got up again and lumbered off, mumbling something about the bathroom.

Ludwig stared after him. "Again?"

"Lud," Gilbert reminded him. Short, choppy thoughts got the idea across. "Diabetes. High blood sugar. Lotsa bathroom breaks."

He nodded slowly, making a small "ah" of recall.

The other two fell asleep without difficulty, even the adrenaline from the threat of attack losing over exhaustion at this point. Ludwig fought to stay awake, sitting up to wait for Antonio. When the last of their crew returned, Ludwig had a stern glare for him.

"No bathroom," Antonio whispered to him, settling down and rubbing his eyes. "There's, ah, a trashcan in the dressing rooms-"

"Your blood glucose level is high." It wasn't a question. Antonio frowned.

"I- yeah. It's fine. I'll sleep it off. It goes down overnight. My pancreas isn't completely dead, you know."

Although not fully convinced, Ludwig let him be after that, and settled down to sleep as well.

\------

Day 4

"What-?"

"Shh!"

Gilbert shushed his brother, the others rising. He shushed them before they could make a sound, and Ludwig picked out Lovino from the automatic scowl that slid over his face. Antonio appeared pale, but hurriedly covered up his weak breathing.

Taking note of Gilbert's serious expression, he strained his senses to figure out what was going on. Still in the building they were in last night, third floor, tangled in a collection of blankets and pillows they'd thrown in a pile on the floorboards. Dim light peeked in around the cracks of the dresses over the windows, announcing sunrise.

Slowly, he heard it. From the surprise and confusion falling on the last two to join the waking world, they'd heard it as well.

Footsteps. The clink of metal and plastic of stuffed backpacks. Human speech.

They glanced at each other, hearing the creaks and muffled whispers from just a few floors below them. Evidently, those people (more than one!) tried to tread carefully, to avoid waking any undead. A sliding, creaking noise - they'd had the same idea as their group had, to move furniture to barricade doors and windows. Ludwig and their group had been in a rush, so they'd covered the windows and doors with the bare minimum, expecting to be quiet enough to be able to go without any heavy barricades; as long as they didn't use light or make much noise, the undead wouldn't be attracted.

Antonio's head started nodding off, and Lovino dug for a snack in his bag. The granola bar wrapper crinkled. Ludwig cringed, and Lovino tried to muffle the opening of it under a shirt. The noise below halted, the second group halting progress for a bare second - they returned to their work, noticeably without anymore talking.

Gilbert grit his teeth. "Great," he hissed, spitting at Lovino. "Now they're going to come in, guns blazing, thinking we're the zombies!"

Lovino shot him a glare, but handed over the unwrapped granola bar to Antonio, who started munching without much care. Before he could retort, Ludwig cut in, sensing the start of an argument, "It was too quiet."

Gilbert whipped his head to glare at him, instead. "What?"

"The wrapper was too quiet to attract any kind of attention," Ludwig explained calmly, keeping his voice low. "We're two levels above them. They wouldn't have been able to hear something like that."

"Then what made then stop?" his brother demanded. "There had to be something."

"Something outside," he pointed out. "They probably thought their talking or moving furniture was going to attract something, or they heard or saw one of them outside. Not a foil wrapper."

Grudgingly accepting that, Gilbert leaned back, sinking back into his blanket pile. "They're going to find us," he grumbled. "They're going to come up, and we don't know if they're friendly or not."

"We don't have any damn weapons," Lovino growled. "They're probably older than us, and actually able to hold a gun for longer than five seconds without chickening out." He glared at Gilbert, daring him to bring up the crowbar he held onto.

"We have to try," Antonio said softly, recovering from his low. "They might have food and medical supplies. Or they could be like us, just surviving by sheer luck, and in desperate need of help."

The Spaniard looked to Ludwig, and he had to admit those adorable eyes were pretty darn hard to resist. He shook his head. "No!" A little too loud. They all flinched, eyes glancing to the floor and door. He licked his chapped lips. "No," he said, softer. "We can't risk it, not when everyone, and I mean both groups in this building, are on high alert and panicked. We have to wait, lie low, watch and see what they do. What they're like. I'll keep watch. I'll- I'll take the gun."

Ludwig held out his hand, head down. When he didn't feel cold metal touch his skin, he looked up, and found Lovino's glare to be boring a hole in his head. He slowly lowered his hand, trying to treat this like a wild, panicked animal. No sudden movements.

"Lovino-"

"Like hell I'm giving this thing up to you bastard!" Lovino's yelling snapped up the attention of all in the room, and no doubt everyone on the ground floor. "You're a god-damn tree-hugger, and you want the fucking gun!"

Footsteps stormed up the stairs. Gilbert lurched, tackling Lovino. They skidded on the floorboards, splinters cutting through their clothes. One pale hand struggled to cover Lovino's mouth, for all the good that did. Any semblance of subtle and silent vanished the moment the gun came up. Lovino's iron grip held the weapon captive, safety thankfully on.

"Switch, switch!" Gilbert cast a panicked glance to Antonio, struggling to keep on top of the battle without causing any injury. "How do I switch him! C'mon, we need Feli to take over!"

Antonio shook his head, eyes wide, frozen in shock like Ludwig. "I- I don't- it's not-"

"Something! Anything!"

Antonio had nothing. Ludwig's mind reeled, searching for ideas, something that could break them apart and - and get that gun out of Lovino's hands - but nothing came. His thoughts jarred to a screeching halt as the door was kicked open, and a trio of rifles pointed at the squabbling pair. A bullet fired off. Metal bounced on wood and spun across the floor. Lovino slumped, limp.

It was Antonio's turn to dive for the Italian. He scrambled in front of the the fallen boy, shoving Gilbert away, protecting his friend as best he could. Ludwig wasn't sure what to do, too driven into panic to think.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment. Neither group stepped forward, neither making a threatening move. One rifle slowly lowered.

"I dinnae shoot that," one gruff voice said, and the man who'd spoken looked to the other two. Ludwig felt goosebumps on his arms, the Scottish brogue far from anything homely and familiar.

The woman, her bobbed hair a frizzy mess from cold sweat, sucked in a hard breath and admitted, "My hand slipped."

The man's stern eyes scanned over them, and Ludwig felt vaguely violated by that stare. "Ye don't look like them."

The other man, another scary figure with a scar over his eye and expression like ice, nodded in agreement. He put his hand over the woman's gun, lowering it away from the teens. That left the scar man's rifle, but soon enough that lowered as well, and Ludwig found breathing easier. Antonio took that chance to check over Lovino, and answered the mystery on everyone's mind, "He's not hurt. Just passed out from the shock."

Ludwig breathed a sigh of relief, and he heard Gilbert do the same. The adults showed little, if any, compassion, only the woman's face easing in relief. Tension. Nothing but tension, and this hardly broke it.

"Alistair? Is it safe..?"

The appearance of another girl broke that horrendous tension. The scar man rushed to stop her, turn her around and back down the stairs without a word. Ludwig caught a glimpse of her young, teen face, blue veins visible through her pale skin, and silvery hair much too long for these conditions, before she vanished again, just the steady footfalls on stairs.

The red-haired man, a scratchy, rough visage to behold, raised his rifle again, and everyone else conscious tensed, including the woman. "We don't need mair mouths tae feed. Any last words?"

His heart leaped in his throat.

Gilbert jumped in, blurting out, "We have a doctor! We can be useful!"

That stopped the man short, his eyes widening, clearly not expecting that. "Which one of ye?" he demanded, and Gilbert pointed at Ludwig. "My brother - he's been studying medicine, about to get into medical school," he rambled, stumbling over himself trying to get the words out fast enough before they became Swiss cheese.

The rifle lowered again. Then the man burst out laughing. The woman stared at her comrade as if he was mad; for all the others knew, he very well could be. Ludwig wasn't sure what could make someone laugh in a situation like this, far from home and wielding guns, but he knew well that stress could make someone volatile.

"A doctor's a valuable thin' in this time," he said, the laughter stopping flat. A smirk remained on his face. "You'll live long an' well, granted ye don't git shoved with a body with the plague." He flicked something on the end of his rifle, and slung it onto his back, the gun matching the military vest he wore. The last of the tension eased as the last ounce of immediate danger disappeared, the man taking the woman's rifle away from her to hook onto his back as well.

The brothers watched him, waiting for him to attack again, to turn around and screech and tear into them like those things outside. Antonio paid little mind, busy propping up Lovino comfortably, sneaking panicked glances to the others.

"I'm Emma," the woman interjected, obviously having waited to introduce herself, away from the terror. Her accent rang closer to Francis's, much different from the tough man in front of them. "And this is Alistair. Don't mind him, he's a tad bit paranoid."

"My name is Ludwig," he replied in kind, sitting up properly, taking his time, eyes locked on Alistair. "My brother is Gilbert."

The woman sat down with them, crossing her legs like in kindergarten. Alistair gave them a scowl. She gave them a smile, encouraging him, "And over there is...?"

"Antonio, and Lovino, he's...unpredictable."

"Lovino's the unconscious one, right?" Ludwig nodded. "I'm sorry for shooting like that. Will he be alright?"

He hesitated, but nodded. "Shock won't affect him much." He had to be careful with his words, on the topic of mental disorders and Lovino's refusal to give up the gun. Too many people, and likely even now in crisis, had the belief that the 'insane' should be shoved in mental hospitals and that be the end of that. "We had a...dispute, but I'm sure it's done with now. He'll be grouchy, but he's harmless."

Emma hesitated, her smile wavering, but nodded anyway. Alistair grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Grouchy enough tae catch our attention. He better be glad his noise didnae catch anythin' else's attention."

"I have no idea what you're saying," Antonio broke in. Everyone's eyes darted to him, and he held up his hands in defense. "Hey! English is my second language here? I can't understand half of this conversation."

The man, Alistair, left the room with a huff, and they listened to his boots clunk on the stairs going down. Emma waited a moment, staring at the wall behind Ludwig's head, then said, in a softer voice, "We have a few people we'd like you to look at."

Ludwig's eyes widened, and he nodded. "I'll do what I can."

"Whoa, whoa, hold up!" Gilbert cut in, scrambling over to his brother's side. "We can't just give you our service without proper payment."

"...payment," Ludwig said slowly, staring at him, not amused by the audacity of the request.

"Yeah. We do something for them, they do something for us."

"More people means more protection, right?" Emma pointed out hopefully, not so well on the negotiating area. "We have guns, and Alistair has military training. We can help you survive."

Gilbert scowled. "More people also means it's harder to hide, and that we need more food," he informed her gravely. His frown was bitter; he wanted the extra protection that came with more people, but wasn't too fond of the extra costs.

Emma shrugged, and although she appeared indifferent, her eyes slid away and her voice held a small touch of emotion. "Then we leave, and you can hope that you don't raid the places we've already raided."

That stopped Gilbert's protests. He gulped, and slunk away, over to Antonio and the unconscious Italian. Ludwig nodded, already having decided. "I'll see what I can do," he repeated, and meant it.

Emma smiled. "Perfect. Thanks so much. Anything you need, just say. We picked up a few medical things from the last place we crashed at."

With a sigh, Ludwig put a hand to his head, as if that would settle his head whirring from everything going on. He grimaced as his hand made contact with his hair, the gel that normally held it slicked-back having turned into sticky gunk. That would take forever to wash out, and wouldn't feel nearly so pleasant in another couple of days. Emma covered her smile with a hand at his reaction, and gave him a wink as she turned to head down the stairs with the rest of her group. "We'll be setting up downstairs; hope we can stay for a few days for a rest. Come when you're ready."

After Emma left, the teenage group didn't see any of the older group for a while. They waited on the third floor, Gilbert pacing away his frustrations. There wasn't much room, but after he moved the metal clothes racks all to one corner, he suddenly had much more space.

"Gil-"

"It's daytime, why aren't we outside, moving, or even raiding someplace else?" he demanded, rattling off anything he could to avoid confrontation from his brother. "They no doubt heard us, and now they're just lying in wait, and when night comes, you can bet they'll be knocking down every flimsy shield we put up!"

Ludwig put his head down and waited. Gilbert kicked a broken plastic hanger, and watched it clatter and vanish under a rack of clothes. "Done?"

"No! I'm going to murder them if one of these people is contagious and gets you sick!"

"I'm going to listen to what they say about their symptoms," Ludwig started, attempting to breach the idea as gentle as possible. "And check their vitals. If I don't have to, I won't touch them. Does that make you feel better?"

Gilbert huffed, and paused in his pacing. "...yeah."

Ludwig motioned for his brother to come over. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Antonio talking softly with Lovino - or would it be Feliciano?; probably filling him in on what happened while unconscious. The German put his arms around Gilbert, pulling him closer. He gave a heavy sigh, and a few pats on his brother's back. "We're going to be okay, alright? I'm not going to die on you."

"You better not," Gilbert returned, smiling despite the raspy, teary voice. He chuckled dryly. "I'm the older brother here, I should be the one comforting you. Don't die on me."

Ludwig smiled at this. Whatever made his brother happy. "I'll be safe," he said. "I'll take precautions, make sure everything is sterilized and nothing gets contam-"

"Lud. I don't care. Just be safe."

Ludwig abruptly shut up, zipping his mouth, and nodded. They turned their attention to behind them, hearing the rustle of Antonio standing up.

"Hey..." Antonio rubbed the back of his head. "I filled Feli in, but he's pretty adamant that he never had the gun. I'm-"

"The fuck?!" Gilbert interrupted him, snarling at the Italian boy, who flinched at the sudden attack. "I sure as fuck remember you trying to shoot me with that damn thing!"

"Leave it be," Ludwig sighed. "We can work this out later. Antonio, what were you saying?"

"I'm going downstairs."

Gilbert jumped right back up on the defense, turning his words on Antonio. "The hell you are! I'm not letting you be at the mercy of those guys! Did you even see the AK-47 that man's got!?"

AK-47. Not a rifle. Maybe Ludwig's knowledge of guns wasn't that expansive... Lesson learned: Never trust the narrator.

"They're not going to shoot me," Antonio snapped, exasperated. One hand was in a fist at his side, the other fidgeting with the thin tubing peeking out from his pocket. "God, Gil, they want Ludwig's help, do you think it'll do them any favors to off one of us!"

His brother huffed in his ear, still cozily close to Ludwig. "Fine."

Antonio sighed, and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I need the bathroom, and I'm not going in a trashcan again," he said, a strained tone to his voice, as if he had to force himself to keep his voice at a level tone. "I saw a bathroom down there when we first came in. You know exactly where I'm going."

Ludwig stared at him for a long moment, before realizing he was waiting for permission. He gave a small nod, and Antonio left. He watched him close the door softly, and light steps on the stairs. They paused for a short moment, then continued. "He has a headache," he mumbled.

"Eh? How'd you figure that, O mein großer Bruder?"

"It..." Ludwig stopped, not sure how to explain without coming off as way too nosy and over-observant. He settled with shaking his head. "No, I'm over-diagnosing here. Don't worry."

"Yeah, yeah..." Gilbert leaned against him, pressing his cheek to his brother's shoulder. From the perspective of someone else, it might have seemed too intimate for family, but then again, it could be argued that the naysayer never experienced such a deep brotherly love, and why are you commenting on other people's lifestyles, anyway? That's just flat out rude.


	14. Doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: medical speak, slight body horror (medical condition), A BRA OH THE HORROR

Gooey Ashes

Boots trod down the steps, each creak echoing from the walls to his ears, prodding at Ludwig's anxiety. It came as no surprise when he made the last few steps to find the still-unknown, ragged group meeting his eyes; Ludwig felt his insides run cold. Social interaction had never been a strong point. "Good morning," tumbled out of his mouth. He received nods in return.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" Out of all of them, it was Emma who didn't carry a grim air, smiling up at him, a gentle radiance in this harsh world.

Ludwig managed a smile in return, relieved at the lack of hostility from at least one person. "I did, thank you for the concern." The next words, he'd rehearsed in his head over and over again, but still they didn't feel right. "I will give you the best medical treatment I can."

Tension eased in the atmosphere, as if a verbal affirmation was all that was needed to make everything in the world better. But Ludwig wasn't so naive to think everything had been smoothed over. Their prickly introduction last night had left much to be desired.

"Good on ye, lad." Alistair sat with his back against the wall, great black artillery cradled in his lap. He jerked his head in the direction of a corner of the room. "The lass and him need ye."

Ludwig stepped carefully over the haphazard setup, little care taken for items from the store besides to throw the clothes in separate piles for makeshift bedding, much like they'd done upstairs. He took a place on the stool next to his apparent patients, staring at them, as if by appearance alone he could diagnose their ailments.

The man returned the stare with a steely glare. Blond hair all over the place, speckled with dirt, but a short enough cut that it didn't matter. An old scar across his face, too old to be from a recent altercation, long ago healed past any chance of infection. The chapped lips might have been a sign of illness, but Ludwig's entire group had chapped lips. Nobody thought of a quick swipe of lip balm when scrambling for the necessities.

The girl, pale skin with pale hair, had a hairbrush, mechanically stroking it through her hair. Clothes tight yet modest; turtleneck, skirt, and yoga pants. She didn't mind the extra fabric of the skirt, sitting daintily on a throw cushion like a doll at a tea party. The girl strangely fragile to him, Ludwig's eyes lingered on her, mentally listing possible signs of disease. Pale skin could mean any number of diseases. Ribs just barely bulged into her sweater - starvation? Something that drained her energy and ate away at her? ...or maybe she just had a fast metabolism. Diabetes? He'd have to consult Antonio to be sure, maybe ask to borrow some equipment to check her numbers.

"Hey." The word wasn't loud or overly harsh, but it got Ludwig's attention, glancing to the scar-faced man. "Stop staring."

Direct. Ludwig nodded slowly, and sat up straight. "Tell me what the problem is."

As it turned out, none of this would ever be so simple as asking and getting an answer. The man tapped on his throat and chest, explaining quietly, "It's hard to breathe." With a sigh, Ludwig sat down in front of the man, prepared to do his examination.

"I need more light. Can someone find the light switch?"

"Doesn't work," Alisteir grunted. "Go outside for more light. The sun's got plenty to spare."

Ludwig paused, looking up from his examination. "What do you mean? One of these lights has to work. They can't all be broken."

Alistair rolled his eyes, giving a long, exhausted sigh at the exuberance of youths. "All lights are out," he clarified. "Last night, all went dark. No power gets through here."

That made Ludwig pause. Last night... They'd tried to use as little light as possible, just in case the creatures had seen a flicker, considering they hadn't spent much time constructing a barricade as these people had, and weren't entirely confident in its internal structure. Anything built in ten minutes would never hold up against what seemed like an army. "Water still works," Alistair added. "So make sure to get that mop on your head washed while ye can."

"...I'll get on that as soon as I finish this, thank you," Ludwig replied evenly, thrown off-kilter by the man's throwaway attitude. Moving right along, he asked, "Does anyone have a flashlight I could use instead, then?"

Gilbert stepped forward, handing over his phone. "Don't get bars out here, anyway," he muttered.

"As long as it gives enough light, it's useful," Ludwig assured him, flicking on the flashlight on the phone, and aimed it at his patient. Abel blinked in the sudden beam, but opened his mouth. "Say, ah." That request brought on a few coughs, but Abel managed, and Ludwig considered that he felt like a real doctor now. No degrees needed, just look down someone's throat and interpret the many colors and bumps in there.

Conversation started, albeit slowly, around the pretend doctor and his play-pretend game. Ludwig did his best to ignore it, concentrating on his job in the right now. Finally, he pulled away, turning off the light on the phone. "Smoking. Your throat is damaged, and likely down to your lungs, as well. It might be best to treat for bronchitis, if we can find antibiotics. You're more susceptible to respiratory infections, that's probably what you have." Abel nodded, and Ludwig turned to the girl not much younger than himself. "Your turn. What seems to be the problem?"

Instead of answering him, she blushed, looking down at her hands in her lap. Ludwig waited for her to gather herself, but it appeared as if she couldn't speak. "Okay your mouth and say, ah," he directed, turning the flashlight back on. The girl did so, and he asked another question as he peered at the back of her mouth, raising his voice to catch the attention of the others. "Do any of you know what I'm supposed to be looking for? Your throat looks fine...you can close your mouth now, thank you."

"Her name is Natalya," Abel said, his voice soft. Ludwig nodded, encouraging more explanation. "She's weak. Born with it." The words were choppy, likely from the pain it took to talk, and Emma walked the few steps over to hand him a water bottle to wet his throat. Once he'd swallowed a few careful gulps, he continued, "She can't run. In pain. Thin."

At the last word, Natalya lifted her sweater. Ludwig started to turn away, covering his eyes, but thankfully she didn't raise it further up than to the lacy edge of a bra. Blushing, Ludwig leaned closer to look at her ribs, indeed sticking out from her pale skin. He furrowed his brow, noticing odd bruises where her ribs jutted out. "One of your ribs is out of place."

Ludwig looked to Natalya's face for confirmation, and she nodded. Only adding to the horror, she asked quietly, her voice a wisp like herself, "Can you help me put it back in place, please?"

Ludwig took a deep breath, and sighed. Trying his hardest to keep the blush off his face, he placed his hands gingerly on her abdomen, velvety skin under his fingertips. He was careful to avoid the bruises, blooms of purple and green speckling her skin -

He had to take another deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. This sounded a bit too much like a sensual scene from a movie, right before it faded to black, when the characters would have sex off-screen. Curse his adolescent hormonal brain. Ludwig opened his eyes again, and refocused. Bones had to be readjusted.

[FADE TO BLACK]


	15. Home is a Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: mention of guns, slight body horror, no death, no cuss words, actually K+ rated chapter
> 
> "If you don't feel safe, it's not a home." - A lesson I learned a few years ago
> 
> The medical name for Natalya's condition is Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. She will be a source of body horror in future chapters. If you can bend your arm like that, I suggest seeing a rheumatologist and score yourself on the Brighton criteria. The sooner you're diagnosed, the sooner you can learn how to avoid damaging your body.

**Gooey Ashes**

The flashlight in the bathroom was a godsend, Antonio reflected as he washed his hands. He'd belatedly found out that the lights in the restroom wouldn't turn on, but someone from the new group had thought to leave a flashlight by the sink. It was a pain that the flashlight couldn't miraculously make the hand dryer work, but what could he do? He shook the excess water from his hands, patting them on his jeans to dry them off. After returning the flashlight to its designated dry spot, he stepped out of the restroom.

It didn't take long to find both groups, together, considering the shop was rather small. Looking at the conglomerate of survivors, tension hung in the air like a fog, none of them paying attention to Ludwig and the teen girl in the corner. Antonio stepped closer, and flinched as the two suddenly jerked, the girl gasping in surprise. It was over quickly, however, Ludwig leaning away with a mess of apologies falling from his tongue. The girl gingerly massaged just below her chest, pulling down her turtleneck sweater.

While Antonio looked away with a grimace, not sure what he'd just witnessed, Gilbert lurched forward. Ludwig had no time to react before he was yanked backward by his brother, holding him in a protective hug. "I told you not to touch them," Gilbert demanded, hysteria muddling his voice. "You don't know if they're sick!"

Alistair snorted, and grumbled an amused reply, but the accent made it sound like an entirely different language to Antonio. He cleared a spot on the floor for himself, sitting on a plush scarf. An ache lingered at the edge of his head, buzzing tension that he tried to ignore.

Ludwig brushed off his brother's worry, assuring him, "It doesn't look like Natalya has the flu. I still have to find out what's wrong."

Antonio turned his attention to the girl, the center of attention. "I've never seen you at school," he spoke, knocking a crack in the tension that just kept building since the whole zombie fiasco had started. "Where do you attend? Do you go to private school?" Like Roderich.

The girl, Natalya, shook her head. "My family and I are from far away," she said, so quietly that Antonio had to strain to hear her. "We came to see a specialist to treat my condition."

But she didn't specify that condition, Antonio noted. "Huh, that's cool. Are you looking for your family like I am, or..." The unspoken alternative was all too clear in everyone's minds.

To his relief, she didn't curl in on herself, instead answering, "I miss my brother the most. If I can find him, protect him, just be by him again..." She sighed. Antonio's heart went out to her.

Ludwig cleared his throat, and Natalya held out her arm. He looked at it, confused. Emma turned away, covering her eyes; Alistair turned away. Antonio stared, and covered his mouth as the girl bent her wrist back, so much so that she could almost grab onto her own arm.

Ludwig stammered for words. "W-well, that's..."

"-disturbing," Gilbert filled in.

"My joints are very 'loose', as you might say," she said, her voice quiet. "I am too flexible."

Ludwig nodded, his pallor faintly green after that display. "...I can see the drawbacks," he said at length. "Ah, I'm sorry, but I don't know how to treat that."

Natalya nodded, a solemn gesture. "I expected as much. Please be aware of my limits."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Antonio felt slightly sick, and curious, but mostly he couldn't keep images out of his mind of horror movies with children contorting themselves in freaky poses to linger much. "Okay," he blurted out, stumbling over his words, eager to move away from that topic. "So, when do we get moving? If everyone's had breakfast, we can go out and find-"

"Hold up," Alistair's gravelly voice stopped him, freezing Antonio's fake smile in place. "None of ye will be goin' anywhere."

Antonio froze. For a fleeting moment, he imagined that he hadn't heard that correctly, that the accent got in the way again, but Ludwig spoke up. "Excuse me? I did what I could to help. There's only so much that can be done."

Emma, Alistair, and Abel stood up, and Antonio inched away, wary of the weapons in their hands. "We think we're going to keep you around," Emma said, surprisingly. "You're the best person we have for a doctor, and you're also a bunch of kids. If you haven't noticed, it's not safe out there."

"If you haven't noticed, we can help," Gilbert spat, turning Emma's words on her. "We're old enough to take care of ourselves, and we need to look for proper shelter-"

"This is proper shelter," Emma said, not amused. "You kids work on barricading the place, and work on making beds for us all. It's as good as any a place for us to hole up in for a while. Plenty of stores nearby."

As the adults walked to the store door, Abel turned back to warn them, "Stay." Weighted down by a low, gravelly voice, that command didn't need any added threats.

After the door closed, Antonio took a few stumbling steps. "I think I'm going to go check on Lovino..." He barely waited for Ludwig to nod at his idea before running up the stairs.

Upstairs, he found the Italian stirring, lying on one of the makeshift beds. "Hey," Antonio whispered, kneeling beside him. "Did you hear about the new people?"

The Italian rolled over, stretched out on the floor. "Buongiorno, Toni," the voice scratchy, likely from shouting earlier, but at a pitch higher than the one Lovino used. Antonio sighed, a smile coming to his face. "Good morning, Feli," he replied softly. "Wanna get up and have something to eat? We can't go outside, but we have food."

Feliciano pushed himself up, sitting up with a yawn. He bunched the clothes closer to him, letting them hang off his arms and shoulders, just relaxing in the cozy fabric. "We can't leave? There's no kitchen here..."

Antonio shook his head, unable to help a grim smile. "We can't leave," he repeated. "Don't ask why."

Feliciano started to open his mouth, to ask another 'why?' question, but stopped at Antonio's expression. After a hesitation, he nodded. Antonio grabbed at one of the bags, dragging it closer. "Now let's see what's in here that we have for breakfast-"

"The gun." Antonio stopped, caught off guard by the quiet mumble. "The gun, did that really happen?" Feliciano stared at Antonio, and after a moment, the older nodded, turning his eyes back to the bag. A pair of granola bars were found, two water bottles, insulin pump adjusted, and that was breakfast. A lackluster, chewy breakfast, but a breakfast nonetheless.

Once they polished off breakfast, there wasn't much else to do. Antonio trudged to his feet, and started moving objects around, clearing spaces more efficiently than last night, sectioning it off for 'beds', with two spots: One for Antonio and Feliciano/Lovino, and one for Gilbert and Ludwig to share. He had a feeling no one wanted to sleep alone. Feliciano joined in with the effort.

It was a while before Gilbert and Ludwig came upstairs, and Ludwig went right for the dressing rooms. He immediately headed back downstairs with a trashcan, and Antonio looked away with a blush. Gilbert gave him an odd look, but slowly joined Antonio and Feliciano in the cleaning.

"Hey..." Gilbert gave Feliciano a funny glance, and whispered to Antonio, "Is he still the loud shouty one?"

Antonio could've pointed out that Gilbert was also the 'loud shouty one', but shook his head. "Neither of them really shout a lot, but Feliciano's fronting right now. He's the bubbly, optimistic one. They're not opposites, actually. They have a lot in common."

Gilbert snorted, and tossed a sock across the room to another pile. "Yeah, they got the looks in common," he snarked. "I just can't believe they relegated us to maid service."

Antonio grinned. "Maid service?" he repeated with a chuckle. "It's not the worst thing on Earth, Gil. But yeah, I'd prefer to be out there, too. We'd actually be getting some progress on something."

"It's not too bad," Feliciano spoke up, hopping over to them. Fear flashed across Gibert's eyes, and he took a step back. But fortunately, Feliciano didn't seem to notice. "We could make a game out of it!"

"A game? Like what?" Antonio asked, honestly curious. "Yeah, a game will make it more bearable."

"We should be cleaning and preparing, not playing games," Ludwig's voice said from behind them. They turned around, Feliciano hiding behind Antonio's back at the appearance of the frightening teen. They were all teens, but being tall and buff didn't always work in Ludwig's favor. "This will be our home for at least a few days, and we have to prepare for tonight. Work on making this place livable, at least," he sighed.

"Don't call it home," Antonio immediately protested, frowning. "It's not a home if it doesn't make you feel safe."

Feliciano gave him a wary glance, one that made him seem more like Lovino. Anything that wasn't a childish, ditzy persona didn't seem like Feliciano.

Ludwig sighed. "It's a home for as long as we have to stay here. Maybe, in time, we could make it feel more homely," he settled on.

"It's a shelter, but not a home," Antonio persisted. "We haven't had a home since this started."

"So..." All eyes went to Gilbert. "Does that mean we're homeless?"

Ludwig hesitated, and admitted, "...maybe. I don't know about your house, but our apartment was wrecked in the first night."

"...we lived downhill," Antonio explained, feeling heavy as he verbally acknowledged it. "It's probably flooded completely by now. All my medications are ruined."

On that low note, the group returned to cleaning up, noticeably subdued. "...I'll go outside," Ludwig finally said after a few minutes of silence. He dropped the clothes in his hands, and stood up. "Somewhere nearby has to have a cooler of some kind. Your insulin has to be refrigerated, right?" Antonio nodded.

"Then it's settled." What was settled, nobody was sure. "I'll have a quick look at the nearby stores. I'll be back before Alistair and the others, and they'll never know I left." It was like he was reassuring himself. Antonio could see how his eyes darted around, nervous at the suggestion of breaking a rule, even one set by people they barely trusted. If he was caught, well, none of them faulted him for being scared. The authorities in this situation had guns.

He looked away as Ludwig turned, and he kept his eyes focused more toward the windows as he heard those combat boots stomp down the stairs. A deep breath was hard to come by, but he managed to clap his hands together, catching Gilbert's and Feliciano's attention. "Right," he said, as if a new fire kindled inside him, bringing him the enthusiasm and energy he needed. "Let's get those windows boarded up. Shelves should be pretty easy to break up for that."

Behind him, Feliciano cheered, spurred by his attitude. Gilbert's reaction came a moment later, albeit hesitant. Antonio grinned. A poor attitude never solved anything.


	16. Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: discussion of DID, food mention, fear, omorashi
> 
> On the FF version of this story, the last part of this chapter has been removed for safer reading.

Gooey Ashes

An hour passed without much problem. The small group of three cleaned and organized - four, Antonio reminded himself. Lovino stuck around even when he wasn't obviously fronting. But still, they were a small force. They had to be glad the place was small; easier to reinforce and easier to clean up. They put more stuff over the windows this time, something stronger than dresses. The wooden shelves and displays they dismantled to board up the large windows downstairs, held together by a liberal amount of duct tape. If they stayed here any longer, by their own volition or not, they would make damn sure they wouldn't die in their sleep. The upstairs had a door, the saving grace in case all their effort downstairs ended in a horrible act of God. Antonio kept the team going with pep talks. An endless supply of energy didn't hurt, either. That morning rush in all of them dwindled eventually.

They paused for breakfast, gathering together in the middle, digging through their bags for something appetizing to eat. "It's only been an hour," Gilbert groaned, checking his phone for the time. "Battery's almost dead, too. And without any electricity anymore, a charger's useless."

"Look at this way," Feliciano offered, pushing some packaged snack in front of Antonio poking at his insulin pump. "We have all day to create our fortress to keep zombies out!"

"Ehhh..." Gilbert coughed, and grabbed something for himself from the food pile. "I guess so... You're not too bad, Feli, but you can get pretty weird sometimes."

"That's not nice." Antonio's light reprimand went ignored.

"Beh...my brother's not the nicest person on the planet - he's a real dick most of the time - but he does his best to protect me."

"Protect you?" Gilbert turned to face Feliciano, paying no mind to Antonio's frantic attempts to silently ward off the direction the conversation was taking.

Feliciano nodded. "We think that's his 'job', why he exists. He's a Protector. He comes out when I'm in danger...and at other times," he admitted.

Gilbert leaned away, staring at Feliciano as if to watch for an incoming switch. "Creep-ay. Hey, how do you think those guys are gonna ration the food when they get back? If they try to hoard it all for themselves..."

Antonio breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God Feliciano didn't notice the abrupt change of subject.

\------

The day was going well.

There was just one problem: Ludwig wasn't back yet. Worry began to set in. At first, it didn't seem so bad, Antonio checking his watched every now and then, the minutes ticking by. Then it turned to hours. It took a surprising amount of time before Gilbert moved aside the makeshift curtains to glance outside

Natural light streamed in, a contrast to the dim glow that made them squint, eyes watering. "The flood's still going," he informed them. "It's not getting any worse, but not any better, either. Damn...it's eerie out there. I've never seen it this empty. Literally no one out there."

"No one?" Feliciano bobbed over, and crammed his face in next to Gilbert to see out the same spot. "Not even a puppy?"

"No, not even - wait, I think that is a dog over there..."

"Can we just get back to work?" Antonio asked, exasperated. Gilbert gave him an odd look.

"What's up with you lately? We've been working all day. No need to be a slave-driver about it."

Feliciano looked back to Antonio, sticking out his tongue for a second before turning back. Antonio felt like a mother whose children didn't listen to. Stifling a sigh, he returned to cleaning, picking up a few broken pieces of plastic. Might be from a hanger. Broken before they'd arrived.

"Can't see Lud anywhere," Gilbert commented. "It's actually getting late... I hope he'll be back before dark."

"I hope he'll be back before those other people get here..."

"That, little Feli, is one thing we have in common."

Feliciano nodded, and tried to look out as far as he could out the tiny space of window. "I haven't met them, but Lovi thinks they're bad."

"Eh?" Gilbert's eyes flickered to Feliciano, and he stepped away from the window to fix the smaller boy with a pointed stare, looking for any signs of lying. "Are you pulling my leg? That's creepy, man."

"Beh? What do you mean? I'm not pulling your leg. Do you want me to pull on your leg?" Feliciano continued staring out the window, leaning against it to settle in, taking up the post of watchman.

"Your whole-" Gilbert struggled for the right wording, waving his arms to illustrate. "The multiple personality thing. How are you so buddy-buddy with Lovino, or whoever he is, when he's in your head?"

"I talk to him in my head," Feliciano explained, sounding much too perky for this topic. Gilbert rubbed his arms as a shudder ran down his back. Behind them, Antonio froze, unnoticed. "He's kind of sleeping right now, but I get the feeling from him that he doesn't like the other people from this morning."

"Isn't that like...schizo-whatever?" Gilbert muttered, then heaved a great sigh before Lovino could come up with a reason to 'wake up' and slap him or something. "Okay, whatever, you've got voices in your head. Great. Two minds are better than one, right?" Despite his cool words, his voice wavered, uneasy on this topic.

However, Feliciano didn't seem to mind or notice, and shot him a bright smile that held all the light of the blocked-out sun. "Yeah! Lovi says he's the only one of us with a mind, though. Oh! I think I saw something!"

"Where? What did you see?" Gilbert rushed to fit his head in the window, squeezing up next to Feliciano to see for himself. "Yeah- Toni, get downstairs! Lud's back, and he's got stuff! Open the door for him!"

There was a thump as Antonio dropped a pile of scarves, and he ran down the stairs, Gilbert following close behind.

Ludwig was received with a welcoming party that wasn't quite for him, but for the cooler in his hands. Antonio snatched the cooler from his arms, snapping off something Spanish that sounded like a swear.

"I really owe you one, Ludwig," he added, before running back upstairs, prize in hand.

Ludwig gave a fleeting smile, and found his brother clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You did good, lil' bro," Gilbert praised.

"Did you bring back any food?"

At Feliciano's innocent inquiry, Ludwig's smile fell. He shook his head. "Most places are trashed," he explained. "I only went into the places that I could see into from the street." He hadn't felt safe enough to enter the stores that looked to be locked up tight.

Feliciano's face fell, but he nodded in what Ludwig hoped was acceptance.

Ludwig trudged upstairs, led ahead by the limitless vessels of energy that were Gilbert and Feliciano. He closed the door behind him, and sat down to pull off his boots. Glass clinked together as Antonio carefully stowed his bottles of insulin in the cooler. The small ice pack already in there wouldn't last long, but Ludwig thought it was better than nothing. He hoped so, anyway.

"Feli, do you have any cotton balls in that bag? I need really soft padding for this..."

Gilbert looked to his brother, and wrinkled his nose. "We need to do something about you," he decided. He grabbed clothes from here and there, and then marched over, and dropped them on Ludwig. "Carry those downstairs."

On their way down, Gilbert grabbed some sparkly bottles of lotion from next to the register. "Zombie apocalypse or not, you're getting a wash."

Ludwig didn't know whether to sigh or roll his eyes, but settled with a smile and an amused, "Thanks."

\------

Dinner was strange, even if they were sure it could have gone no other way. Fruits and vegetables, perishable foods the younger group never had the chance to grab in the past few days, passed up in favor of preservative-packed long shelf life. Sodium didn't coat their tongues, and heavy protein didn't weigh down in their stomachs. The adults had thought to bring back produce; colorful foods that had so far avoided that panicked rush that first night. Ludwig still grimaced as he bit into a bruised apple. Anything left had been what rolled under the display boxes.

The odd meal was a tense affair, everyone shooting uneasy glances around the room, sitting on the floor, munching their way through wilted greens and softened fruit. The bananas were still young, and were put to the side to be eaten over the course of the next few days. They'd last a bit longer. Cabbage wouldn't.

The group of teenagers retired to their makeshift bedroom with an anxious unease. They slowly dwindled to one light after Lovino/Feliciano insisted on flashing it at all the corners. To make sure nothing had gotten upstairs somehow. Yeah. Ludwig glanced around at his friends as they collected on the community bed pile. Tired, all of them, used to the stress of schoolwork and sleeping on proper mattresses. Awkward shadows of stubble covered their chins, except for Lovino/Feliciano and Antonio, strangely enough. The Italian was still too young, he supposed. Antonio... Antonio could be weird. They were all too young for this. Puberty was different for everyone, but the point was, Ludwig wouldn't have minded if they came across a razor or two. A clean shave was something he missed, although the wash earlier helped.

Antonio snuggled close to the Italian, settling in for sleep. Gilbert did likewise, scooting close to Ludwig. Lovino/Feliciano started shifting among the clothes-bed, and after a moment of staring, Ludwig realized he was taking off his shirt in the dim light. He tugged off Antonio's shirt not long after, with no protests. Lovino/Feliciano turned off the last light, plunging them into endless darkness. Ludwig stared at the black for a long moment.

When the sun plunged below the horizon, outside the thick defense on the windows, they all knew. The group collectively shuddered as noises started to seep through the walls. A long scream here, a howl there, a low, omnipresent rumble. Something or several somethings scratched at the buildings nearby. Under an unspoken agreement, they all shifted closer to each other. Warm, shaking hands found each other, grasping tightly in desperation.

Moans and groans echoed outside the clothing store. They heard the screech of tires, and three bangs of gunshot. They could imagine why it stopped after three.

Ludwig doubted he'd be getting much sleep that, not with those sounds leaking through the walls as if they were made of paper. The group downstairs, protected as they were by guns the size of his arm, had to feel safer. Or maybe not, being on the ground floor. Maybe it didn't matter if it was the ground floor or that they'd barricaded the windows and doors. After all, their apartment had been overrun and torn apart to shreds in less than an hour after the end of all times had reached the area. Their first hideout, in a cramped toilet, had thankfully lasted the night, although that lobby hadn't stood a chance. The bookstore..? Ludwig couldn't help but think that had been luck. Maybe it had fallen into rubble just last night. Tonight would be luck. But this night, having stayed inside most of the day, they didn't have the benefit of exhaustion to send them straight to sleep.

If no one made a sound, no one turned on any lights, then maybe, just maybe, they'd live to see the sunrise.

Scared? Yes, Ludwig was scared. Very. There was no fatigue to hide behind, nothing that forced his heart to slow and relax. No familiar mattress to sink into.

\------

It must have been hours he lied there, staring up at the ceiling through the inky darkness. On his right side, he assumed that was Lovino/Feliciano, hands still tangled together. Antonio would be on the other side of that, no doubt still cuddling the Italian close. 

He felt the Italian’s hand pull away from his own, the body connected to it shifting. Reflexively, Ludwig tried to hold on tighter, to return the hand to his grip. 

Noise, the Italian moving around on the pile of clothes, price tags crushed underneath. Too much noise for Ludwig’s liking. It didn’t seem to bother the other two, but the creatures outside might have have more sensitive ears. But he bit his tongue. He had no idea what to call the Italian. Lovino? Feliciano? Or did he go with the awkward address of calling him/them Vargas?

Taking a gamble, Ludwig whispered, “Lovino?” He rolled away from his brother, Gilbert too deep in sleep to notice the sudden absence of warmth beside him. “We have to be quiet.” There was no correction on the name, so that risk paid off.

“Shut up.” Although it was quiet, it was still snapped at him, and he almost flinched at the sharpness. Lovino huffed immediately after, and Ludwig frowned. 

“Go back to sleep.”

“I should be telling you that,” Ludwig stated, his voice muffled in the clothes.

“I know,” Lovino sighed, annoyance clear in his whisper. He didn’t offer anything else, and Ludwig hesitated a moment before moving over. Clothes bunches under and shifted under him, and he kept slow, as long as it didn’t make much noise.

Clumsily, he found Lovino, coming to lie next to him, feeling the Italian tense. They both stilled for a moment, Ludwig blushing up to his ears, until Lovino shivered, and curled up on himself.

Fear got to everyone, Ludwig supposed. Even those who showed the world nothing but anger. Lovino wasn’t any different from any of the rest of them, in that regard. “As long as we stay quiet, we’ll be safe.”

“Shut up,” Lovino insisted again, groaning. “Shut up, I just have to go.”

Ludwig blinked in the darkness, wondering where in the world Lovino would need to go in the middle of the night. It would be a death sentence to even walk out of this room and go downstairs. The real meaning hit him soon enough. “Oh,” he said, rather lame and belated. 

He heard Lovino huff. “Fuckin’ bastard.” Hidden in the dark he would never get his eyes used to, Ludwig blushed deeper. “Hold it,” he mumbled in reply, settling down again now that he knew the cause behind the worry. “We can’t risk turning on a light or making too much noise.”

“I know that,” Lovino snapped, a little too loud. He seemed to pick up on that, and lowered his volume again. “No shit, what do you think I’m trying to do?”

Ludwig shrugged at that. He belatedly realized Lovino couldn’t see him. “Go back to sleep,” he offered, at a loss. “You can go in the morning.”

“I can’t.”

“...can’t sleep?” Ludwig clarified. Lovino offered too little information and expected too much in return.

“Can’t hold it. Can’t hold it if I fall asleep.” Lovino’s voice edged on panic, rushing out of his mouth.

At least it he’d found out the reason for Lovino’s squirming? Ludwig was at a loss otherwise. “I don’t know how to help you,” he admitted.

No response.

“Just...go to sleep. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it in the morning.”

He didn’t hear anything else from Lovino for the rest of the night. Maybe exhaustion finally hit Ludwig.


	17. Swamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: bedwetting, mild body horror (Natalya), fire, destruction, cussing (Lovino), talk of death, one-sided Spain/Germany
> 
> Lovino calls Ludwig a doormat for many reasons. One being that Lovi's gonna use him as a pillow.

Gooey Ashes

The smell of ammonia woke them.

Not a pleasant smell in the least, especially first thing in the morning, but none of them volunteered to do anything about it. They all stared at the stain in a tired, confused daze. Silence. Early morning. The lack of sound outside should have been a relief, but it felt like a reminder of the nightmares that had been there before it. It made their stares weigh all the harder

Antonio cracked the silence first. "Does anyone know how to clean this up?" He glanced between them all, but no one raised their hand. Lovino had refused any comforting hugs, and just sat there, wiping away tears each time they sprouted up in his eyes.

"I usually put them in the washing machine," Lovino mumbled, voice raw.

No power to run a washing machine now. In the mended silence that followed, they all assumed, from the lack of speaking up, that none of them knew how to wash clothes without electricity.

Ludwig gave a long sigh. "We can..." He gestured vaguely at the wet spot. "...always throw the clothes out. There's more clothes, since this is a clothes store." Always more boxes stuffed with clothes in the corner.

Antonio shrugged. Gilbert didn't offer any protest. Lovino took that as his cue, collecting the soiled fabrics in a ball without delay, taking it away from the community pile. He disappeared behind a display shelf, likely for privacy to change.

Gilbert broke the silence after that. "I... Are we going to burn that?" he asked, talking about the soiled clothes. Ludwig wrinkled his nose at the idea. Burning urine? Yuech. "I mean, that's got fresh human scent on it. It'll bring the zombies straight here."

Ludwig shook his head. "Gilbert, he's embarrassed enough. Don't make this harder on him."

Gilbert reared back as if slapped, and hissed, "Did you forget he almost got us killed yesterday? That kid's a psychopath, I could care less about his feelings."

"Gil-" Antonio reached over, putting a hand on his best friend's shoulder, but it was slapped away. Gilbert had no desire to calm down.

"You're just a bleeding heart, aren't you?" he growled at Antonio, voice already rising. "You might be trying to help the little guy here, but I'm trying to save all of us from being eaten!"

Both Antonio and Ludwig started to protest, alarmed, but froze at a knock at the door. In their heated discussion, they'd missed hearing someone climb the steps.

They glanced to each other for a moment before Ludwig called out, "Come in?" It ended in a questioning tone, his voice almost cracking. He might have just doomed them, his mind raced. One of the sick, tormented people had come inside during the night and tried to knock on their door, and now he'd just told them to come inside and infect all of them-

Click. The door cracked as it pushed open, and a cascade of platinum hair peeked in.

"I brought bananas."

Ludwig vaguely felt his jaw drop, but did nothing about it.

Her wide eyes took in the bedhead, unkempt teens, and stepped inside. She closed the door, and stepped forward. She walked like her legs were handmade by a someone who made dolls instead of humans for a living, her steps mismatched and clumsy, making her way over in a delicate balancing act.

Luydwig tensed as she appeared to go limp, collapsing into his arms, but it looked like he needn't have worried. She looked up at his face, and repeated, "Bananas?"

\-----

Trapped. Ludwig wasn't sure how else to put it. They were trapped. Depending on who he asked, the adults downstairs were the jailors, or the zombies outside were.

That was another thing. Zombies. Ludwig's reasoning was that it was tiring jumping around words; better to just call them what everyone else did. But… Admittedly, it just felt like an excuse. He'd finally given up on correcting everyone. While it was a noble effort, it was also a lost cause. "Zombie" was apparently the stronger word, one that put a name that fit the fearsome human-like beings better than "patient" or "sick" or "friends and family." That last one hadn't been received well at all.

The windows had shattered the second night, on the ground floor. Upstairs, they had cracked, and nobody trusted thick curtains alone anymore. The water, thankfully, remained running, in both hot and cold. Ludwig knew, somewhere along the line, one of the pipes should have been attacked by now, or burst from lack of maintenance on the entire water system. Gilbert had told him not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So he'd stopped questioning it, and enjoyed the fact that he had the luxury of a daily washing up. Their one constant in life seemed to be the bathroom plumbing, as electricity looked further away by the day.

They weren't given much opportunity to go outside, but Ludwig had seen the exterior of the small store. Deep gouges marked the wood, the panels littered with scratches. He hardly recognized the place. Inside and outside, it had drastically changed. At least the place didn't have gigantic windows they needed to reinforce. A small place was enough hassle to barricade and build up. One comfort he took was in that, wherever the other survivors were, along with the government, they had enough manpower and resources to construct efficient defenses. As it was, their little group had devoted so much time and effort into this one store, yet even Ludwig had to admit that it looked close to collapsing on them.

It felt like they had jobs. Always working on the building, fortifying and creating, breaking for sleep and food, the adults always there with a glare to remind them of the work to be done. Truly, this felt like no home. Antonio had been right.

But. Looking up and down the street, peering down the long car-covered road, Ludwig wasn't sure anywhere else could be barricaded as strongly as this place had been. He swallowed thickly. This place had been a stroke of luck. The problem being that he wasn't sure how long that luck would last. After another glance to the sun that they measured their lives against, he headed back inside.

Ludwig glanced to the Spaniard as he came back inside, closing the door behind him with care, muffling the click as it closed. He pulled off his boots, slow and quiet. For the past few days, Antonio and Feliciano had been nigh-inseparable, like some sort of mental shield, protecting each other from all the scary things in life.

It didn't stop him from cornering the other now, sneaking up to slip his hand into a pocket. Antonio froze, registering the hand in his jeans, and he turned his head to stare wide-eyed at the other student. Ludwig pulled out the insulin pump. He read the faint numbers and readings on the pump, his finger sliding off the lock. Antonio's fingers twitched as a new bolus was sent through his port, eyes narrowing to glare. He snatched back the pump, locking it again and tucking it into his pocket where it belonged.

Ludwig wouldn't let him walk away. "You know we can't get proper treatment for ketoacidosis anytime soon." Antonio turned his head away, scowling. "You have to keep your blood sugar down."

"We have food," Antonio snapped, enough force from the mother of the group for Ludwig to flinch back. "Insulin expires and rots. It goes off in thirty days, and I don't have an endless supply, Ludwig. I need to make it last. I die in hours with low blood sugar. With a high, I die after a few weeks to a few months. It's better to coast on high instead of risking a low."

Ludwig sighed, but didn't back away. His voice softened; seemed everyone was turning into a walking corpse. "...alright," he conceded, but didn't sound completely convinced. "But don't push it too much. None of us want to lose you."

Antonio scowled. "Come to terms with it," he muttered, the words bitter, the meaning grim. "Unless there's a factory still producing insulin, I'm a dead man."

Ludwig shook his head, but said nothing else. What happened to finding survivors and the government? When had Antonio lost that hope?

\-----

Ludwig shivered, rain peeping in past his collar to slid down his back. The others already had noticed the rain, and Antonio dug through his bag, looking for something as gray clouds loomed over them all. The rest hunched their shoulders, as if that would help protect them. Natalya edged up her jacket to cover her hair.

Click. Click. Fwip.

The umbrella was a welcome sight. The rain came down ever faster, and it filled Ludwig's ears as the five huddled under the umbrella. Water slithered off to catch the edges of shoulders and ears. Their feet kept going, one after the other, stepping in puddles to avoid sacrificing anymore of the rest of their bodies to the mercy of the rain.

The sky growled. The clouds hid the sun. They hoped the dark wouldn't inspire the growls that filled their sleep every night.

"Where are we going?" Lovino asked. He repeated his question, talking louder to be heard over the rain.

"To Francis," Antonio answered, as if he hadn't answered the past three times. Amnesia; a side effect. Ludwig hoped they would stop for long enough for him to corner Lovino for a chat. "One of my friends. He has a really big house and lots of food."

Lovino nodded, furrowing his brow. "...yeah, I remember."

Lightening dotted the clouds like stars. The light shot across the sky faster than a meteor shower. Ludwig peeked out from under their protective dome, up into the clouds like Cthulhu would open up the rolling billows to swallow the entire street. Lightning arced, thunder rolled. They all flinched as lightning blinded them, and again as the following boom of thunder struck the air. Ludwig rubbed his head, Antonio's wavering grip knocking the umbrella against the tallest member of their group.

A second boom, another flash to make spots appear, and a startling crack sounded from Ludwig's right. His feet stopped, and he felt rain gush over him as if someone had dumped a bucket of water over his head.

Ludwig smelled it first, through the haze of rain stirring up everything from dust to car oil. Ozone. That tang of ozone, the acrid flavor tinging the air. Then he saw the flickers of light that weren't accompanied with rumbles of thunder. Instead, they heralded a new kind of rumble.

"Ludwig!"

The yell wasn't of alarm. It was a yell just to be heard over the storm. Whoever said it, the call broke the spell on Ludwig, and he turned, running to catch up with the others, his boots splashing in the rising water. After the flood, the storm drains overflowed and the steep basins along the sides of the road no longer served to drain away excess water. The calm suburbs were turning into a swamp.

Behind him came the crack of molded stone and brick, and the faces of his friends, as he came closer, morphed into expressions of horror. There was the unmistakable sound of something massive breaking at its foundation. A groan that seemed to echo. Ludwig glanced back, ducking under the relative safety of the umbrella. Too small; water still ran down his back.

Fire and destruction. It flared over the restaurant building, right as the structure gave out under it. Something screamed inside, a single scream that layered over itself a hundred times, muffled and eerie under the blanket that was the storm. The rain settled the dust before it could travel far, but did little to combat the fire. Within moments, just a few blinks of the wide-eyed stares of the group of teenagers, the restaurant had been reduced to a foundation of flaming rubble.

"Fuck."

Ludwig found that he agreed with Lovino.

"Did...did that really just happen?" Gilbert asked

Ludwig's mouth felt dry even as rain slid over his lips and teeth. "Yeah." He tasted dust.

"Should we go inside?" Natalya's soft voice, almost forgotten, rose to the top. Ludwig stared at the flames and ruins, wondering how anyone could think to go inside the rickety remains. It wouldn't hold for long under the rain and winds.

"In-inside." Lovino pushed Antonio forward, the bearer of the umbrella, forcing the group to start walking once more.

Away from the ruined restaurant, Ludwig noted. Of course they wouldn't go in there. Inside meant somewhere safe, somewhere that wasn't in flames. They were just…moving on. "Did we…" Ludwig still felt at a loss for words. If the wind was just a little stronger, if they had decided on a different direction to walk in, any of them could have been caught up in that. "Did we all just see that?"

"Yup," was Lovino's mild response. Gilbert just gave a nod, having just asked the question himself. It felt worth it to ask again.

Ludwig stared at them, ignoring that he had stepped out of the shelter of the umbrella. "We're just walking."

"Yee-up."

How many had died in that destruction? Why didn't they stop? Those people deserved a period of silence, someone to take a moment of their day to mourn for them.

"We're walking away from that- that building." God, it was a graveyard now. The moniker of 'building' didn't suit the rubble Ludwig knew to be a pyre for who knew how many bodies.

"Uh, yeah."

Ludwig's mouth moved, trying to figure out how to react. What he next said surprised even himself. "What is wrong with all of you?" The words blurted out of him, thick with anger and grief.

It caught the rest of them by surprise as well, and he ducked his head as he found four pairs of eyes staring at him.

"It's called dissociation, dumbass," Lovino answered him, poking Antonio again. "This doesn't feel real to me. Dunno about the rest of you idiots."

Ludwig held his breath, but none of the other three provided any explanation. Something inside of him felt lost and alone, and needed reassurance that someone, anyone, felt the same as him, that he wasn't surrounded by heartless monsters.

"Lovino has an excuse," he said, the words bitter on his tongue, feeling like he was scratching at tears running down his throat. "But what about the rest of you?" Water spat from his lips, and he wiped a hand over his face, only for more rain to cover him seconds later. His voice just kept rising, but he didn't care. Too soon, his throat felt raw. "Do none of you care? The world is falling apart around us, people are dying! Classmates and friends could have been in that building!"

The rain stopped.

"Luddy." Antonio, holding the umbrella over him. "I'm cold and tired." Antonio, his face too close to his own, eschewing personal space bubbles.

"Can't we go somewhere dry, Luddy?" Antonio, lips ghosting his ear. Antonio, Antonio, Antonio.

Ludwig's mouth fell open as Antonio drew back, and found himself leaning forward to catch that hint of physical comfort again. Blue eyes stared in emerald. Ludwig caught himself, just barely, and fumbled for words. "S-sure, let's go inside. We should go inside. Inside. Yes. Of course."

He could've sworn Antonio smirked as the Spaniard turned away, but he was too flustered to process it. That…was confusing. He chose not to dwell on it too long, that small interaction scattering his thoughts. He ducked under the meager shelter the umbrella offered, Antonio already walking again. He kept looking back to Ludwig, and Ludwig found himself giving small smiles, trying to reassure him. Wait, who needed reassurance again?

They did finally go inside, spurred in part by a confused Ludwig. They repeated the process they'd done with the abandoned cheap diner, Gilbert leading the charge with a crowbar in hand.

Unlike the previous diner, this place was a mess. Gilbert gave the all-clear, and the group took careful steps inside, their shoes splashing in dark, murky liquid. Bits of trash and scraps of unidentified substances floated at the top and sunk to the bottom. They tried to avoid the thicker, squishier-looking bits. Antonio covered his mouth with a hand, and Ludwig didn't blame him. The place reeked. He turned away from a mysterious splotch on the wall, crawling with bugs. Similar creepy-crawlies swam in the water, turning stagnant pools into bubbling nests. It smelled like something had died in there. Something probably had.

But it got them out of the rain. Their socks would suffer, but the rest of their bodies would escape another waterlogged fate. That knowledge didn't stop Ludwig from grimacing as fetid slosh splashed his jeans.

"Try to get upstairs. We might be able to dry off here," he instructed, to a chorus of nods. High and dry was their current goal.

Gilbert picked his feet up, baby-steps over towards the back of the store. "I'll check first, for any zom-"

They all jumped at a squeak. Ludwig looked for the source of the noise, whipping his head around wildly, until his eyes landed on Lovino, the teenager staring at the corner. "Lovino…?"

"Fuck you." Lovino's automatic reaction, albeit shaky. He quickly added, pointing to the corner in question, "I saw a thing - small."

Ludwig's gaze stayed on Lovino's red face for a while, taking in that the younger had likely made the squeak in surprise. Then he turned his sight to the dark corner. He fumbled for his phone, hands wet and slippery, and tried to turn it on. The screen lit up. Ludwig made a strained growl. The screen blinked with the image of a red battery, then shut off again. With his handy flashlight out of commission, he threw it at the corner. Instead of splashing in water, he heard the screen shatter as it hit something metal, and then the scurrying of a large rodent.

Ludwig hesitated. These past few days, which seemed as if they lasted weeks, had turned his world upside-down. Humans had turned into horrible monsters, so who knew what had happened to the animals in that time? But he looked to Lovino again, and decided it wasn't the time for discussion like that. "It's just an animal. Maybe a raccoon," he said, reassuring the group.

Objects splashed in the water, and Ludwig felt his heart stop for a moment before he realized it was just Natalya. Waving her flashlight around, she swept a counter clear of the knick-knacks and other items. She pulled herself up and sat on top of it, escaping the flooded floor. Looking up, she met Ludwig's stare. "My feet hurt," was the flat explanation she gave. Ludwig shrugged. He couldn't really argue with that.

"Mein Gott," Gilbert breathed, his voice echoing faintly in the watery store.

"What?" Ludwig kept his voice down, hissing to his brother. He stopped in his tracks, worried of attracting unwanted attention. "What is it? Did you find a way upstairs?"

There was a moment where Gilbert didn't answer, and Ludwig held his breath. Then his brother's voice came through. "Yeah, I found a way up… I don't hear anything up there, so I think we got lucky. I think it's safe."

Ludwig brushed his hair back, out of his face. "Well, go check," he insisted. It took barely a second for him to realize he might have just sent his brother off to his death, but he couldn't see much alternative.

It was with an odd lurch in his chest that Ludwig watched his brother pull himself up, and disappear up into a panel in the ceiling. The ladder that once led to the upstairs was likely somewhere underwater. Likely, none of them wanted to plunge their hands into the water anytime soon. Surprisingly, it didn't take very long at all for Gilbert to shout down, "All clear!" The words echoed slightly, and the group nearly smiled at that report. This place was too smelly to really appreciate that news, however. Antonio was the first to go jumping up to the panel, Lovino right behind him. Antonio gave the shorter boy a hand, and there was a slight 'thump' as the two collapsed on dry floor, one level above Ludwig.

Ludwig started after them as well, but was stopped by something tugging at his shirt. "Hm? Natalya..?"

"I can't jump," she said. Getting a blank stare in return, she added, "My shoulders will pull out of their sockets if I have to pull myself up there."

Ludwig's eyes widened, and a little too quickly, he said, "I'll help you up, then."

Gingerly picking her up, he adjusted her into a bridal position, creeped out by how limp and fragile she felt in his arms. Her skin was velvet, like a fabric doll's, and her limbs rolled around as dead as any doll. Dead as the bodies in the rubble of a restaurant. But he tried not to think about that. In a short while, he could get dry.

Ludwig was the last one up, after Natalya. His hands touched puddles of foul water, and he pushed himself up. Thankfully, besides the wet footprints left by the others, the place was dry. Their flashlights scanned the space, taking in the sparse surroundings.

"D'ya think that would be called a cot?" Gilbert indicated the small bed in the corner, a nightstand beside it. The simple lamp, a few books; a dresser of clothes at the other end. Minimalistic. It almost seemed like a prison cell.

Ludwig wondered for a moment about the man who'd made the mattress sink in like that. Had he been poor, or simplistic? Had he found peace without material luxuries? Or had a lack of money denied him pleasures? The room was a cellar, intended to be small storage space, a part of the store to give structure to the roofing. Nothing intended to be livable.

The man obviously had no close family, but Ludwig couldn't help but wonder if the man had found safety. Had he escaped town? Or was there someone out there mourning him? Ludwig didn't know the shop owner's name, but his heart felt heavy as Natalya sat on the bed, the springs retaining enough bounce to squeak under her dainty weight.

Antonio stepped into the picture. "Do you think two of us could take the bed? I'd finally get a good nights' sleep on a proper bed…"

"What?" Gilbert's squawk startled Ludwig. "We're staying here? This place looks like it's ready to topple over at any minute!"

"We don't have a choice," Ludwig snapped.

Lovino spoke up, engaging a rising argument that looked like the few sparks to start a fire. "You wanna go running outside to look for an alternative? Be my guest." Gilbert bristled, but Lovino went on, dismissing him. "I'm all for letting the sickies take the bed. I'll take the doormat over here." In the dim contrasts of light, the flashlights offered, he jabbed a thumb in Ludwig's direction.

Gilbert gaped, and spluttered, trying to get his words together.

"C'mon, Lovi," Antonio said, rolling his eyes and taking a spot next to Natalya. He kicked off his shoes, peeling off soaked socks. "Be nice."

"We're staying." Ludwig decided, stepping out of his trance to rejoin real life. "Although it's not very soft like the clothes store, it's dry and hidden. It's a place to sleep."

Gilbert hesitated to protest, and for a moment, Ludwig wondered if he saw him as a brother or an authority figure. But he said, "Fine. But someone has to go out and scavenge before we move on. I'm not staying here for more than one night."

"Oh, you're volunteering? Bye! Don't let the door hit you on the way out!"

"Lovi, no."

Ludwig sighed. "We'll leave tomorrow. Gilbert, you can go out and look, but make sure to come back before sunset. You have a watch, right?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Six or seven PM, I know, I know."

Ludwig nodded, his eyes searching Gilbert's dimly-lit face for his true thoughts. Either it was too dark, or he just couldn't find anything suspicious. He waved him off, and as if Ludwig was a man of respect, Gilbert started moving, dropping anything that would just be dead weight before returning to the hole cut into the floor.

There was a quiet huff as Gilbert's white hair dropped out of the light, followed by a splash.

Lovino moved without needing permission, covering up the hole with the 'door' that had been built for that very purpose. Ludwig guessed that Lovino didn't do it out of any kind of sense of responsibility or to keep out the smell of the ground floor; those two really didn't get along.

"Oi, Toni." Lovino pried off his shoes, and shot an annoyed look to the bed. "I want an actual siesta today."

Antonio looked up, then hopped off the bed. "It's all yours."

Natalya also surrendered the bed, allowing Lovino to relax on the bed alone, kicking off his shoes and crawling under covers that missed the real person who should have slept there. Ludwig, his mouth dry, sat down on the floor. The wet quickly seeped through the seat of his pants, but he accepted it. Not embrace, but accept as a negligible evil. His hands clamped onto grimy boots, and he pulled them free, then peeled off his socks. Everyone screwed up their faces in disgust at the smell, but all of their feet smelled similar after so much walking in these waterlogged conditions.

He scooted back, leaning with his hands until he found the wall, latex-like paint dappled with acne. It didn't feel like bugs or sticky, thank God, and he leaned his back against it with a sigh. A spot to rest. His eyes fluttered shut.

A strange pressure on his back woke Ludwig. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he craned his neck top look behind him. "Lovino, what are you doing?"

"Water," Lovino explained, tugging at Ludwig's backpack. He finally got it off once the other slid the straps down his arms. "I'm out. How many bottles do you have in here?" He ripped open the zip, and grimaced at the soaked inside.

"Not many," Ludwig admitted.

"We can look for more water bottles tomorrow, after the rain stops," Antonio offered from his spot with Natalya, shrugging. "Most stores have bottles for sale."

Lovino made a noise of disgust. "Scavenge? This store? Did you see the place?" He scoffed. "Gross. I'm not drinking sewer water."

Ludwig sighed. "I'm sure my brother will find something." He wasn't sure how reassuring he was supposed to be. Was he even supposed to be reassuring? He could never tell with Lovino.


	18. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: blood, zombies, the place is still flooded, unsanitary, mention of religion, gun, grief

Gooey Ashes

Antonio braved the ground floor, coming back with a bucket and some flashlights they wiped off. Lovino had refused to be part of the cleaning crew, turning his nose up at the murk splashed on the floor.

Their watches reached six. They ate quietly. Ludwig felt the heat of the others' eyes on him. He resolutely kept his expression stoic, but didn't look up.

Seven in the evening. Sunset was close. No windows in the room, but they'd learned. Sunset came at a similar time each night, slightly sooner than the day before in foreshadowing of cold days ahead. Antonio's bucket sat in the far corner, a heavy coffee table book covering it like a lid, a sad, soggy roll of toilet paper next to it.

Ludwig watched from another corner, hands clenched in fists under a blanket as Lovino stacked book after book over the door in the flooring like bricks. No one spoke. They all knew the rules the later the day became.

Close to another hour passed, all flashlights off, although clutched like teddy bears. An early bedtime. They all hoped they could fall asleep before the noises started.

But when the groans and sloshing and scraping came close enough, all of their eyes were wide open, staring at the miniature hill of books through the dark, waiting for something to break through. For the horrors to become real again. When a scream tore through the walls, and Ludwig sobbed, no one blamed him. Gilbert wouldn't bring those water bottles anytime soon.

\--------

The morning couldn't come soon enough for Ludwig. He lied on the floor, but the inside lining of his jacket didn't feel any different from the scuffed, unfinished flooring. It all felt cold and numb against his cheek. The air felt heavy and humid, trapped moisture ad heat rising from the swamp below. Throughout the night, he didn't think he slept for longer than a few minutes at a time. His heart felt bruised, his mind whirling in…he couldn't figure out what to call these emotions. If he had a textbook in front of him, an example case file of someone in a similar situation, he might have labeled it as grief. But that didn't sound right, when applied to himself.

Every so often, there would be a splash from below, several series of splashes. Someone walking below. Ludwig's heart would paradoxically freeze and pound against his chest. Splash. Then he'd hear a guttural growl, a pathetic hiss, or a wet, clammy noise like someone trying to speak with a mouth full of water. The wet smack always made him flinch, and bite into his shirt collar, fighting not to make a noise. The rest of the group seemed to be fast asleep, no sounds coming from the direction of the bed. At the beginning of the night, there had been occasional noises, from the slight shifting of position to the tiny noises of fear at the unnatural sounds that seeped through the walls.

Maybe he actually did fall asleep. Maybe he didn't. Maybe the gurgles and splashes and scratching like bugs all faded into the background, carrying him along through the night in a lull.

But when it started to fade, started to dwindle to seem like only a few wandered the world, he noticed. Ludwig felt like breathing out a sigh of relief, but his breath hadn't been held, not having expected it to end. It didn't end, not yet, and he stared out into the darkness, waiting for it all to finish, for silence to reign. Thankfully, there was no repeat of the previous night. However, Ludwig wasn't so sure they'd be able to smell the ammonia over the other smells of the small store. Not everything could be blocked out by the trapdoor and mound of books. They weren't smell-proof.

It was…a small annoyance that set off alarm bells, that he started to hear the rest of his group - minus Gilbert - begin to wake up. A bit of shifting, and then a pause, a muffled yawn, as they squinted at watches. Then, he heard a whispered, "Is it sunrise yet?"

One ear pressed to the floor, Ludwig could almost certainly say, "No."

But Lovino was the one who answered. "Yeah, it's like nine in the morning. Sun's been up for like an hour now," he said, sitting up with a yawn.

Ludwig froze. "No," Ludwig whispered, just barely audible, and he dared to raise his voice as loud as he dared. "No, it's not sunrise yet. Can't you hear them?"

There was a pause, the others listening for what Ludwig was talking about. Loud, annoying, and deadpan, Lovino delivered, "Nope."

Then they heard it. A scream, and they all jumped as a hundred somethings banged at the ceiling. Ludwig grit his teeth at the feeling of the floor under him being scratched at. Wide eyes darted around as they raced to get used to the dark surroundings. A flashlight clicked on, waving around to check the ghostly faces of the teenagers, shining at shadows that threatened to leap out at them in the noise of the fray just below them. The book mountain trembled, and a book slid off, falling on the floor with a thump that inspired shrieks from below.

A few of them cursed, Ludwig wasn't sure who. Probably Lovino, but then again, he didn't know Natalya well. They scrambled, grabbing for their boots and jackets and bags, still damp from last evening. Ludwig's hand wrapped around something cold and metal. He didn't know what he was doing with it, but it gave him an odd sense of comfort. He could defend himself. He knew the basics. One end delivered death, and all he had to do was press that little trigger. No matter how much it hurt his heart.

Two more flashlights turned on, waving around the room, illuminating the empty corners. All wide awake now, hell screaming in their ears, they looked upon death's door. That door was covered in books.

Ludwig was the first to voice the important matter: "We have to get out of here." Gone was caution, out the window with any thoughts this could be an easy day. A flashlight lingered on the metal in his hands. He pulled it closer, but made no comment. They had bigger issues than his pacifism.

"How?" Antonio asked, staring at him. They all stared at him, and Ludwig racked his tired brain for answers, really wishing the adrenaline would hurry up and kick in already. This was life or death; wasn't adrenaline supposed to come in right about now? One day. One day he wouldn't have to make all the hard decisions.

His eyes darted around, looking for a potential exit. His mind flashed back to the apartment, to tumbling off the balcony, and onto something warm that crumbled beneath him…Ludwig swallowed. He looked around at everyone, and made a decision. "Tear down the walls. We're not going down. We're going outside," he told them, his voice steely.

Antonio and Lovino glanced around, looking for anything that might resemble a window, or some easy thing to tear away from the wall, but Ludwig was very aware of Natalya's unending stare on the gun.

The books rattled, forcing them to make a choice. Ludwig, without hesitation, grabbed onto the cheap painted walls of the wall, forcing his fingernails into the crevices so he could get a grip. With a grunt, a flashlight illuminating his hands, there was a crack, and the board underneath bent, nearly coming free. Plastic-coated pink fluff lined the walls underneath, and he tore at the insulation with his bare hands. It took a moment before he heard other cracks, others following his lead around the room. One crack sounded beside him, and he turned to find Natalya beside him, working on widening the gap he'd started on.

"Thanks," he whispered. They didn't have much time to chat, but he could appreciate the small things in this deadly situation.

They worked quickly, as fast as they could. It felt like forever before Ludwig could stab at the brittle last layer with his flashlight, shingles falling away without a foundation to hang on to. Bright morning light shot through the widening hole. Ludwig didn't stop for a moment to question the dissonance between light and the noises that grated at his mind.

"Go, go. Natalya first, then Lovino." As soon as the hole was wide enough, he gestured for the two smallest of the group to go out the hole.

Once those two were out, he and Antonio could work on widening the hole a little bit more, just enough to fit the two bigger of them. While he was sure he was the same age as Lovino, Ludwig wasn't nearly the same diminutive size. He'd worked out a few times at the side of Antonio, but now their apparent muscles were nothing but a burden in this scenario. For now, he just wanted to make sure those two survived. With the amount of rattling their little floor-door was making, Ludwig wanted to save at least two, and not doom all four of them. Not after Gilbert.

Lovino glanced to him before squeezing through the pink-lined hole. Ludwig faltered for a moment - that hadn't been anger or annoyance. He almost heard an unspoken plea: Don't take too long.

Antonio pushed out Lovino by the shoes, jarring Ludwig from his thoughts. Right. "Let's keep working. Just a little more."

Lovino cursed outside, and he tried to focus on that over the screeches and growls that sent his hands into a panicked working mode, even as he saw blood. Sharp edges.

Antonio pushed the bags through the hole after the two, being extra careful with the cooler. He hesitated with letting go, fearful of damaging the contents within. Ludwig felt a surge of anger, impatience rising as the gargled screeches pushed at his mental limits, and shoved. Antonio gasped. Lovino cursed again. Ludwig yanked at another handful of pink insulation, barely acknowledging that he'd just pushed Antonio's lifeblood out the hole with reckless abandon.

Antonio muttered something in Spanish - he really didn't see how that would help - and they went back to work. Maybe a prayer. He didn't see how God was still here, either.

It was a few minutes before they heard cracks.

The cracks didn't register at first. Focused on the task at hand, Ludwig's first thought was that the others were making progress on the other walls. But that wasn't right. They'd given up on that to all work on one spot. It was when the gurgled screams suddenly became louder that Ludwig glanced behind them.

They'd broken through. Hands shot up from among the books and splintered door, grabbing at books and each other. The mound of books kept rattling, like the floor was breathing, taking labored, fast gasps.

"I'm going through." Antonio's words gave Ludwig the strength to tear his eyes from the terror so close to gutting them. "Push me through, okay?"

He sounded so calm. Ludwig was sure that if he tried to say anything, it would just come out as a squeak. So he nodded instead, although Antonio already had his head through the opening. He took a deep breath of foul, dusty air, and coughed, but soldiered through, planting his hands on Antonio's ass. Without a second thought, he pushed.

He bit the inside of his cheek, steeling himself as he heard Antonio shout, the scream of, "AYUDA!" Just a few more inches of space. An ungodly screech rang out behind him, and books fell below the door to end in a splash of fetid water.

He couldn't wait. If he waited any longer for the luxury of not having to suck his gut in on the way out, he'd never survive. Adrenaline pumping, overriding any hesitation, he shoved himself into the hole. His eyes met sunlight, spots blooming in his vision.

Panic overtook him; he'd used all this time to dig, and yet, he hadn't given one thought to how he'd actually get himself through the hole. His hands grappled for purchase on the shingles of the cheap roofing, bits of plaster foundation stuck under his nails.

Slimy bones wrapped around his boot. They clawed and scraped at his boots just the same as he clawed at the shingles and air on the roof. Slime brushed against his leg, and a howl came from right behind him. Ludwig increased his pace, struggling to wriggle through the hole, fluff brushing against his waist as more and more hands latched onto his boots. Something tugged at his pants, and he finally emerged through the hole.

His elation didn't last long. Like the night at the apartment complex, everything rushed past him. He heard the shingles rattling around him, felt bruises appear from his bumping, and the air whipped him enough to scrape his skin. But the guttural scream fell away. Instead, very real, very human screams met his ears.

Instinct saved him. Instinct, and years of hard training that made him push past the shock and curl into a roll, meeting the shallow water of the parking lot in a ball that rolled the way out of major injuries. Ludwig stumbled to his feet, forcing himself to get up, and out of the water. His head whipped around, looking for the source of the human screams.

Slimy water dripped down his face. He stopped, huffing with the remnants of adrenaline, his feet planted in the murky water, one foot bare. His mind spun, and his vision finally settled on the scene in front of him.

Antonio and Natalya sat on the boot of a old car, bags and cooler hugged close, staring at him with wide eyes and closed mouths. Lovino glared from his perch on top of a van. The glare was too fierce to be Feliciano; that stress hadn't triggered a switch, apparently. Gilbert would've been upset. For a moment, Ludwig looked around, searching for his brother as well.

"Hey," Lovino's call snapped him out of it, and his head whipped toward the Italian, adrenaline making his brain seem crystal clear. It took a few moments for him to realize he wouldn't find Gilbert here. "You blew our fucking ears out with that scream." His voice wavered, but the verbal smack was a breath of fresh air to Ludwig. Everything smelled like polluted river water. Considering he was standing in polluted river water, apparently. He glanced down to see a few small fish poking at his bare foot.

"I…lost a boot," he said, his tongue feeling clumsy and thick in his mouth.

"Then come over here, bastard. I'm not throwing this."

Ludwig trudged through the water, trying not to think of what he was stepping on with his bootless foot. He climbed up onto the hood of the van, grabbing the water bottle from Lovino's outstretched hand. He drank gratefully, and settled on the windshield, looking out from his new perch.

His eyes were drawn to the roof of the building he'd just escaped from, despite adrenaline making his stomach roil. But he was safe from being sick anytime soon. The roof looked…bare.

The roof was indeed bare. Shingles had been displaced, pink fluff caught on cracks and snaggles in the breeze, not to mention the giant gaping hole. But no evidence whatsoever of the sickness that had chased them out of there. No one hung out of the hole, no one looked out at the group. Ludwig still heard the moist groans echoing in his head, but…

"They didn't follow us out," Lovino finished his own thoughts aloud.

Ludwig unscrewed the cap of his water with shaky hands. He saw blood on his hands, but registered the sight with a medical calm.

Lovino's head jerked up. "Not around Natalya, bastard!"

Ludwig looked over in time to see Antonio fumbling with his belt, his face flushed red at being caught with his pants down, almost literally. "She's looking away," Antonio blurted out, but, thankfully for the dignity of everyone around, didn't continue. "Besides, we woke up and jumped right into running for our lives. C'mon, guys, it's human to need to pee."

Lovino looked offended by the mere suggestion of bodily functions around a female. Ludwig cleared his throat. "It's impolite," he admitted, grudgingly adding his opinion to the conversation. "But as long as Natalya's okay with it." At Lovino's glare, he added, "It's not safe for any of us to go off on our own just for the sake of a little privacy."

Lovino contributed to the discussion a drawn-out frustrated noise. He landed with a splash in the water, holding his bag high to protect it. "Do whatever," he grumbled like a petulant child - which, Ludwig reminded himself, they were all still technically children - and slogged his way through the water. "I'm going to find somewhere actually private." He emphasized the last word, a biting last insult to Antonio.

"Hey-" Ludwig hurried after Lovino, uneven legs splashing in the water. He'd hoped to escape the water for at least a few extra minutes. As they moved farther away from the little shop, he overheard Natalya say, "I have a brother. This is not strange."

Ludwig suppressed a sigh. So at least two of them were happy - well, not bereaved, at least. He hurried after Lovino, even as Lovino seemed to be trying to keep a great distance between them.


	19. Backed into a Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: Gilbert-centric chapter, zombies, weapons, dead dog, minor injuries, gore/gross stuff

Gooey Ashes

Gilbert ducked into an alleyway. He threw a sleeve over his mouth, nearly gagging at the sight in front of him. His flashlight landed on the contents of the narrow crack between stores, and found something visceral compared to the mundane, albeit gross, trash. A mauled dog corpse. Flies crawled over the glassy eyes, and he couldn't help but stare at the muzzle, gastric juices oozing like postmortem vomit. Gilbert refused to step out onto the street again, but glanced behind him, straining to look for some hint of movement coming at whatever gasp he'd made at the gruesome sight. Slowly, he pushed on, edging around the crime scene, avoiding stepping on the damp piles of trash. Attracting attention was the last thing he wanted to do.

Gilbert picked his way through the soaked alley, holding his breath when he could, but that was a futile effort. Everything reeked. He muffled coughs and gags, trying to filter at least some of the stench through a bit of his shirt he held against his mouth. A dead end, he came to. Walled off with brick, like some kind of movie chase scene. But then... He furrowed his brow, and looked around for anything to climb on. ...but then the main character finds an impossible escape, and their true worth shines through in their resourcefulness.

It took some time to find a handhold in this dark, everything slimy and coated in black tar and gooey gunk and he didn't want to know what else. He grinned as he finally scrabbled to lift himself up. His boots found purchase, but it was on soggy trash and probably something else he didn't want to think about. His boots started sinking, and he ran at the wall in vain, the soles of his boots finding a hold for barely a second each time before slipping down again and again.

He grit his teeth. He could hear his boots scraping; sound that might damn him. He ran at the wall faster, willing his feet to go faster, faster, and slowly moved his hands up, trying to find more handholds to find progress. Squish. A growl came from behind him, but Gilbert refused to glance back. Heart pounding in his chest, he imagined himself as Ezio, an Italian assassin, racing to the top of a Borgia tower, willing his body to do the impossible.

Almost impossible. If it was impossible, he wouldn't have been able to scale the wall, with all its grimy gum and exposed gutters making it a textual nightmare on his hands. Discolored splatters and newspaper mush flashed in front of his eyes, the flashlight in his pocket crawling with him like a lizard darting over the wall.

It felt like seconds later that he collapsed, hands still searching for the next crevice, his flashlight bouncing out to roll on a flat cement roof. His chest heaved. A video game had saved him. The light sputtered out, and all his dry lips could come up with was, "…what?"

His legs felt like jello. That didn't stop Gilbert from getting to his feet, and stared at the sparkling sky before him. He stumbled back to the edge, dropping to his knees as he neared, his shins protesting the harsh contact with the cement. His hands were already scraped to hell and back, and he ignored this biting sting.

A zombie had stumbled into the alleyway, no doubt lured by the noise generated by his frantic wall-climbing efforts. It instead found the ruined dog corpse, legs splayed like a spider crouched over the meal. Greasy, matted hair hung like a curtain over the face as it smashed handfuls of guts and fur to its chin. Most of the clothes had been torn away, but Gilbert felt no attraction towards the bared ass. Not human enough for his tastes.

He backed away from the edge of the roof, wiping his nose with a sleeve as if that would get rid of the alley smell. That didn't help, just serving to make his nose wet. The consequences of going out in the rain. Instead, he carefully circled the roof of the building, looking out at a street filled with bumbling, greasy figures, a sound like termites crawling in the walls.

God, there had to be hundreds of them… Gilbert coughed a dry laugh. Besides a smattering of people, the entire town had been overrun. Of course there were hundreds, thousands, out there. Their school alone boasted a couple hundred.

With their nocturnal, destructive behavior, following the rules of I Am Legend zombies, that meant they'd also be able to climb. Gilbert scratched his chin, watching the sluggish dragging playing out below him. With the star light, he could see all this, but the details, thankfully, were too obscured by darkness. But the lazy nature was more characteristic of The Walking Dead zombies, where high walls made for easy protection.

Gilbert's head jerked up at a scream. No longer muffled by walls and pillows and all the layers of fabric he could stand, it rang out as clear as the horrific screams of the first night.

He scanned the streets, and noticed the lazy drag of the zombies changed. They picked up the pace. They turned, veering in the direction of the piercing sound. Low groans started up in the mass, and rose to a disconcerting dull roar, the noise inspiring more noise to stack on top of it, gurgles and growls and guttural screeches. Gilbert stared out at the agitated zombies, his and felt himself tipping forward. He caught himself before he could topple over the side of the roof, and stepped back until his legs wouldn't take it anymore, and his knees buckled on him. Finally, the scene fell away to gray, but the dread didn't ebb.

Stomach acid splattered on the roof, melding away into the streaks of rain and bird poop. Bits of food came up, but nothing identifiable, eaten too long ago. He dug in his bag as soon as he stopped puking. Dizziness had already started to hit; dehydration, and something in his stomach would give it something to gnaw on. A protein bar. Good enough. The foil wrapped protected it from moisture.

Or so he thought. When he ripped open the packaging, he grimaced at the silky webbing that had formed over the corners. He grabbed for his flashlight, hands shaky, and poked at it with the light. "Nothing's moving…" he muttered to himself. Not like there was anyone around to be disgusted at his choice. He had the freedom to eat all the bug-infested bars he wanted. Unfortunately. Extra protein, hooray?

Gilbert pushed himself to his feet, unsure if his hand touched sick or not. He wobbled to the edge again, sips of water and bites of webby, greasy protein bar restoring him again. His stomach threatened to flip again as he looked from the great height, but his heart rose.

The streets were clear. Or, at least, mostly clear. A few stragglers had remained behind, bumbling about. Some had their clothes caught on sharp edges, and some had found other things to be interested. That dog, for instance. He tried not to look in that direction. He didn't need to puke up whatever had nested in his protein bar.

With the zombies distracted, he had a chance. Gilbert glanced around, looking for any sign of something that could work as a ladder, or some measured, metered-out makeshift stairs; something to get him down from here. He had a chance to find a hiding place before those zombies came back and he found out once and for all if they could jump or climb. The I'm Alive podcast proved that some kinds of zombies could jump. For now, get down, and get hiding.

No ladder. No stairs.

Gilbert deliberated, really down to very few options and a decision he had to make, fast. When his boot splashed in bile, he bit his lip. Taking a deep breath of the humid, cold air, he ran towards the edge of the roof.

Never in his life, had Gilbert expected to jump off the top of a building. He'd stared with wide eyes at the stunts pulled in movies and his dreams filled with architecture of ancient Masyaf and Renaissance-era Florence, epic structures and wonders of art turned into veritable playgrounds to jump and swing around, adapting his body to meld around every oddity and feature and turn it into power.

It flashed in his mind that this must have been how Ludwig felt during the first night, when he jumped out the window, except Gilbert hoped he wouldn't end up in a bloody pile on the concrete. Flying through the air, cold humidity whipping his face and forcing his eyes closed.

His boots met wet concrete. Pain lanced up his legs, and it occurred to him that tucking into a roll would mitigate the worst of the damage. His roll was late, his scalp and arms scraped on the concrete, and his head spun. It didn't help the pain in his legs at all, but he liked to think the roll saved him from broken bones.

Once his thoughts cleared, Gilbert risked looking up, blinking away the stars in his vision to stare out at the stars in the sky. Looking around, he managed a crooked grin; he'd made it to the next roof. Getting to his feet turned into a hassle, his legs turned into a jiggly sugar treat. Reluctantly, he stopped trying with a grumbled sigh, staying put. Ezio never had to stop to give his legs time to rest like this after diving off the top of a tower. Water had soaked through his pants by this time. He could just hear Ludwig scolding him and lecturing him on the importance of keeping dry to avoid rashes and infections… He grinned at the image, pulling his knees close to his chest.

Once he got inside, maybe it wouldn't be so cold.

\------

Finding shelter was about as easy as he'd expected it to be. After he'd gotten down off the top of buildings, of course.

With the zombies drawn away to whatever had called them, Gilbert had found the surrounding buildings to mostly devoid of life, although the sticky black tar smeared over the flooring had almost trapped his boots in place more than a few times. One store had been in the middle of renovating during the night of the apocalypse. Or, at least, it might have been in renovation. It looked more like someone had squatted in a dark backroom of the place, setting up residence with what hunks of furniture the guy had been able to piece together into some architectural….something.

It was enough for Gilbert. He grabbed some bits of wood and paint-splattered sheets from the front window, using them to help fortify his pilfered home. It didn't look like anyone had been 'home' for some time now; they wouldn't mind if he spent the rest of the night there. His flashlight waved around the place, guiding his fortification efforts, working quickly. As soon as he spotted movement out the window, he squeezed himself into this niche, and jammed a panel of wood in the opened. He fumbled for the flashlight, and switched it off. As long as they couldn't see him, he'd be golden. All he had to do was hope they didn't choose this place to cluster in when the sun went up.

Of course, this thought jinxed him. Because that's exactly what they did.

Gilbert had a brief spell of calm, time to settle down on the tattered rags and let his eyes flutter closed. The darkness of closed eyes wasn't too different from the darkness just after turning off the flashlight. But it was quiet. Mostly dry. Thankfully, some buildings had thought it smart to build slightly uphill, so the rags underneath him were dry, if smelly.

He must've fallen asleep. It hadn't been for long. Last he'd checked, it had been dead silence, and now woke up to find the dead had come to fill the building. Things scratched and chittered, and a thick smell of putrid and decay made his eyes water.

"Supplies! Supplies, I need supplies! What around here can help me...uh..." He muttered to himself, trying to focus his thoughts on the words he barely voiced.

Gilbert glanced around the small hovel. It didn't seem so bad, in here instead of out there, but really, why couldn't he have ended up in a more inviting hole? Cans, bottles, and old tattered fabrics seemed to dominate this hobo's former home, and sad to say, it wasn't food he needed right then. Gilbert scratched his head, at a loss, trying to sort out what he could use.

"Video games were a lot more obvious with what you could grab...think, Gil, think!" He glanced out the small crack in the plank he'd wedged in the doorway - if it could even be called a doorway. What sort of weapons did they use in the movies? Video games?

Gilbert glanced around at the various things, trying to gain an idea. He really didn't want to run up to any of them and smack or slice anything. Definitely not; who knew if he'd get infected from a drop of blood on him? Yeah. That was the reason. Didn't want to get infected. Not because he was scared or anything.

Molotov cocktail. They had those in military manuals, right? Not a dirty trick if you won with it, and he needed all the help he could get. Gilbert snatched up a bottle, his shaky hands nearly smashing it on the wall. Empty. Okay. He grabbed another; this time half-full. Good, he could use this. Douse a patch of cloth, stuff it in the neck...

The matches were in his bag. He had just a moment after lighting to throw, then hope it hit the mark before the mark found him. Not exactly the same as in Left For Dead, he was pretty sure those things only took so long before exploding like they were supposed to. Gilbert rammed the plank out of the way, ran a match across the rough surface-

"C'mon, light! Light already! Scheisse!"

The match wouldn't light. Too damp from sitting there for so long. Maybe this was a bad idea. His commotion seemed to attract the attention of the zombies, and Gilbert worked through the freezing terror inspired by the guttural screams. Loose feet slapped the moldy flooring. A few more seconds, and he'd be a goner. It was a sheer relief that only a second longer was enough for a spark to come to life at the end of the match.

Wasting no time, Gilbert pressed it to the bit of rag peeking out of the bottle, not caring as his fingers got all too close to the fire. He finally tossed the bottle - not a proper throw, but enough to get it away from him, at the zombies. He ducked, covering his head. Feh, elementary school tornado drill nostalgia. The position worked for more than just tornado drills, as the bottle exploded between him and the zombies. Shards stung his hands, but no chunks lodged into his cranium like it did with the zombies.

At the sound of crackling fire and the sudden waft of burning flesh, Gilbert shot to his feet. Fire and black ate at his vision, and he darted to the black. He'd been pushed into a corner, and he came across resistance, things pawing at his shoes and trousers, but he kept going. Away from the groans, away from the heat.

Trash crunched under his shoes. The stench of rotten food and urine came as a welcome change from that of death and cooked flesh. Even if decaying animals were included in that alley he'd stumbled out to, he considered as his foot found something mushy and bony underneath, thankful for the darkness. Too many dead dogs. Gilbert clapped a hand over his mouth, forcing himself to recall training to breathe through his nose no matter how much he wanted to pant. It wouldn't be for the first time he was infinitely grateful for the military-type training his father had put him and his brother through since they were children. It was certainly coming in handy these days.

\------

A great grin took over Gilbert's face as he ran through the water toward the little shop. Denson, proclaimed the fat, orange letters perched on the front windows. Finally back, where the others had food and water. He felt like sleeping the rest of the day. He'd probably sleep straight to the next morning. He splashed in the water as he came to the door, the water level dropping, just a little bit, as he stepped up to the slightly more elevated sidewalk bordering the store. His grin fell the moment he opened the door. Foul stench washed over him immediately, and a chittering, groaning bustle of noises greeted him. Something lurched out of the darkness.

Gilbert scrambled back, falling over in the water. Several somethings all lurched toward the opening, screaming as unhinged jaws and milky eyes met the sunlight. Greasy faces with limp hair screeched at him. Just as quickly as they'd jumped out, they retreated, and the noises died down to a hushed moaning. Gilbert, even on the ground, pushed to put more and more inches between him and the store. Dark clusters of moving figures filled the store, from what he could see, all giving a wide berth to the door.

"...Lud?" Gilbert whispered. His mouth felt dry, no matter the murk that sprayed in past his lips and made him want to vomit. "They- they escaped, right? Lud's gotta be safe, somewhere else… He's gotta be."

No one answered him. No one reassured him.

Gilbert swallowed; saliva, bile, and river germs. What he wouldn't give for a toothbrush at that moment.


	20. Growing Mold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: place is still flooded, blood, zombies, guns, subtle germano action

Gooey Ashes

"Lovino!" Ludwig finally called out to him. The name echoed out in the wide, empty township. "Where are you going? We can't get separated."

"I can do what I want," Lovino replied, not pausing in his stride. "It's not like I'm driving cross-country away from everyone. All I'm doing is looking for a proper bathroom. I'll come back afterwards."

Ludwig frowned. "It's not safe to go inside anywhere alone." Just a few weeks ago, the standard advice had been not to go down shady streets alone at night. Well, the "at night" advice stood strong, but the world had been flipped on its head in every other aspect.

Lovino snorted. "Well, good thing you're here, then."

Ludwig shook his head, and moved to scratch the back of his neck, but stopped. The red finally registered in his mind, and he brought this to Lovino's attention."I have to bandage my hands." He winced, the pain coming back as the adrenaline wore thin in his blood. Not to mention the blood on his hands. It was getting on the water bottle, to his chagrin.

To his credit, Lovino slowed, giving Ludwig an opportunity to catch up. Once Lovino actually had a better look at his hand, he scoffed, "Well, yeah, dumbass. You were messing with fiberglass. I thought you were grabbing the stuff by your sleeves, not with your bare hands. These are splinters. Fiberglass splinters."

Despite himself, Ludwig blushed, and looked down at his hands again, and the water bottle he still held, a dull stinging pain calling for his attention.

"But we should find a sink or something," Lovino said, turning and continuing his trek, heading to another store on the horizon. A fabric shop, if Ludwig remembered correctly. He'd never gone in there before. The little shop they'd been in before, he swore it was a little convenience store, but the inside wasn't like anything he remembered. Lovino added, in a louder, fast voice, "So you can clean up. I don't want your fucking blood getting everywhere!"

Ludwig didn't know if he should smile or not. He knew not to comment, though, and let silence stretch between them before bringing up, "When will, ah, when will it be Feliciano's turn? You haven't switched in a long time."

There was no response at first, and for an anxious moment, Ludwig was sure he'd tread on some mental illness etiquette rule he hadn't been aware of - then Lovino answered.

"Dunno. Maybe he'll come back while I'm wiping my ass later. Maybe he'll stay away next month, or next year." Lovino shrugged. "It doesn't work like 'taking turns' like preschool kids. It's not exactly a fair and orderly system. We've been switching a lot lately. Short co-con stuff, not long enough to tell you guys much."

Next year? In this situation of everyone going missing, that was almost like Feliciano had died. "Can you…talk to him?" Ludwig almost slapped himself. Of course not, that was a different disorder altogether-

"Yeah."

Ludwig's train of thought halted, and his feet nearly did the same. He stumbled, and his foot plunged into a pothole he hadn't seen under the muddy water. With a grunt, he hauled his foot up, and stepped around that area with a touch more caution. But each time he lifted his foot up, it inevitably had to plunge back into opaque brown.

"The other day, Feli was really noisy," Lovino admitted reluctantly. This was a grudging secret he shared with Ludwig. "I think he's asleep right now. If you're wondering, he doesn't forget literally everything while I'm fronting."

Loud bangs rang over the horizon. They both looked up, almost expecting colorful fireworks to fill the air, but neither had pleasant thoughts about the sound. They'd heard plenty of guns and screams in the nights before. "Someone found a store packed with zombies," Lovino assumed. "Damn! They're like fucking sardines or something."

Ludwig sighed. Those things had been packed tight in that little convenience store, bursting out of the hatch door in an explosion of sickness and pain. He shuddered, and stumbled, feeling those cold fingers wrapped around his ankle again. He had to glance down to confirm in his mind that nothing was there. Just cold water and soggy trash. He shook his foot, dislodging a disintegrating newspaper.

"...I guess that's good," Ludwig said, unsure about what was coming out of his mouth, looking back up to keep track of Lovino. "That he doesn't forget, I mean. That's good. It...sounds horrible, to be so confused about everything. I'm glad you two don't have to go through that."

Lovino snorted, but it was lackluster, tempered by the gunshots so close. "You just go from one extreme to the other, don't you?" he asked sardonically. Ludwig shrugged, at a loss. He didn't have the disorder. Lovino glanced over his shoulder, and waited until he'd caught up again to continue walking.

"We both get seriously confused at times," he explained. "It's just not all the goddamn time. Okay? Not always, not every time, but sometimes, and sometimes one of us forgets a day or two or just an hour."

Ludwig nodded, taking this lesson without daring to argue. In the distance, the gunshots died down, and he soon realized whatever threat there had been was not a problem anymore. Not to those people with the guns, anyway. Tension itched at his shoulders. "Do you think someone died?" he asked, his voice soft, same as the gentle lapping of the water at their ankles.

"Maybe. Someone's always dying these days." The statement wasn't casual, sounding strangely somber.

They soon reached the store, wading through puddles that seemed to dominate the parking lot. Too big of a parking lot for the sparse cars scattered around the black tarmac. Two cars had met head-to-head with identical bulges to the hoods, and a babydoll blue minivan lay on its side, as if it had been pushed over. Ludwig didn't know who would think pushing a car on its side would be of any help. If anything, that would make it harder to drive.

He looked up as they neared, Lovino hopping from semi-dry spot to semi-dry spot, avoiding the deeper puddles. Ludwig had resigned himself to just walking through it all, puddle or not. The parking lot was big, far bigger than the space devoted to Denson, but that was expected for a big commercial store in the Midwest. Even if it was full of uncut fabric and cutesy buttons.

As they stepped onto the raised cement path, Ludwig sighed, his feet clammy and squelching in his boots. Hopefully, they would find socks inside. Socks were quickly claiming the status of best friend, a position Kiku once claimed by way of default. Those days of quiet solitude in the library, cut by the leafing of pages and flick of pencil on paper…he missed those days. They felt so distant, so much in contrast to what was in front of him.

They took a moment shaking off what moisture they could before Lovino's cursing and insistent bouncing dragged them to the doors. They pushed open the doors, the old stickers of "KEEP CLEAR - AUTOMATIC DOOR" and "IN EMERGENCY PUSH TO OPEN" now obsolete. Ludwig stared through the wide panes of glass they passed that made up the entrance. Splatters of water had dried away, leaving splatters of silt like the aftermath of a paintball war. With the lights out, they couldn't see much farther than a few meters inside the store.

"We should walk along the perimeter of the store," Ludwig suggested. "Stick to the walls. We'll find the restrooms eventually."

His grouchy buddy made a sound Ludwig would swear sounded like a growl. "We're cutting straight through. We'll get to the back of the store quicker that way," Lovino declared. Ludwig gave him a wary glance.

"I'm not so sure that's safe…"

But Lovino marched on, despite Ludwig's warnings. The taller hurried after him, cringing as his soaked socks and heavy water-filled boots became more visceral to him the longer they spent out of the watery environment. The floor was covered in a thin layer of water and black tar, debris and silt clearly having washed inside during the overflows of the flood. Ludwig stepped over a dead fish, wondering how he wasn't wrinkling his nose at it. They'd gotten used to the smells of this wrecked region.

His flashlight waved around, circling them as Lovino's flashlight cut a straight path through the store's merchandise. Yarn, fabric, crayons, and white cartoon statues waiting to be colored. All of it had been splattered with dark water. Ludwig could see mold growing in a few sections, and covered his mouth appropriately. "Lovino," he tried to catch his dour partner's attention, keeping his voice down just in case, . Lovino apparently had no such preconceptions.

"What, bastard?" he snapped, making Ludwig cringe at the volume. His boots splashed in a puddle.

Another splash mirrored it in another part of the store. A low, rumbling groan echoed after it.

Ludwig saw Lovino freeze, feet rooted in foamy, previously-stagnant water, the rings in the surface of the water coming from more than just their own boots. Stopping meant injury and death.

Instead of taking the route to a quick death, Ludwig shot forward, a flash of dripping gore in the corner of his eyesight, ghastly figures emerging from the orderly rows of toys and painted plastic. Lovino yelped as Ludwig grabbed him around the waist, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Hands clawed at his back for a more reliable handhold, struggling to readjust on such short notice.

Water splashed and screeches pierced his ears. Ludwig dashed, boots stomping in and out of water, refusing to let it pull him down. He felt hands at his back, but didn't look over his shoulder. He'd just have to trust it was just Lovino, that Lovino wouldn't be pulled off his back, and urged his legs to run faster.

His hands smacked the smooth pane of the door. Ludwig crashed into blinding light. He ran through the parking lot, out into blinding light of unobstructed sun, the air opening from dead fish and mold to dirty river. Ludwig didn't slow when the screeches reduced to ringing in his ears. Nothing else splashed in the water besides him, but that didn't persuade him to stop.

A pothole persuaded him. Ludwig found himself turning, speeding towards murky, brown water. Pain spiked through his leg, his boot caught in a pothole. His head dunked underwater. Brown.

A great weight settled on his back, moving, scrambling, and then bounding off. Ludwig's head surfaced, and he coughed on silt-choked water. He crawled, his legs too shaky to stand, until he found a semi-dry spot, away from the deep, deep puddle that seemed several feet deep in one panicked moment.

Coughing, gasping, he looked for Lovino. His vision swam, but he located his unfortunate classmate, climbing up onto the hood of a car. Which was probably more comfortable than sitting on wet tarmac.

Silt clung to his boots, a grainy mud that would stain the dark brown material if he didn't rinse them off. Somehow, Ludwig doubted he'd be able to do that anytime soon. It felt like his heart would never stop its erratic joyride on a trampoline.

Lovino pulled at his soaking pants, grimacing at the clammy river water against his skin. Ludwig felt as if something had swam up his own pants in the chaos, a crawling creeping feeling spreading over his legs and crotch. The cold water didn't help. For all its time spent out in the sun, the water that covered the streets wasn't warm. As the weeks went by, the water might even freeze over, and then plunging into the water would be a much more terrifying problem.

Although, this didn't feel like a light problem. Ludwig's mind started up again, focusing on the logical solution to being soaking wet rather than the chase that had just happened that resulted in them being soaked. They'd fallen in river water, so there was no doubt river bugs and bacteria now up close and personal against their skin, bacterium that might cause nasty infections if they didn't get cleaned up soon, or if that bacteria got near any open wounds. Ludwig winced, shifting on top of the warm metal of the car, even his shirt soaked. The good news was that Lovino no doubt carried the antibiotics they'd need for fighting off an infection. The bad news was that Ludwig had no idea what kind of dosage they'd need, or if those medications were still good after weeks of this treatment.

After a long few minutes that felt like hours had passed, Ludwig said, "…if you need to go, do it outside. We're not risking that again."

Lovino didn't answer, and Ludwig looked over, making sure the smaller student was indeed next to him. Quiet. A little pale. A drawn, wide-eyed expression had taken over his face, with something startling about the green of his iris. Ludwig probably looked the same. Lovino stared at the store they'd nearly lost their lives in. "…I don't need to go anymore," he mumbled.

Ludwig sighed. As comedic as that statement might have been in a TV show, he should have expected it. Right then, he didn't care that Lovino had probably urinated down the back of his shirt in the escape. They'd both fallen into that parking lot pond. They both got soaked in water that was teeming with way worse than urine.

"We should…get back to the others." Ludwig was still working on catching his breath. The only response was heavy breathing. From the both of them. "We need to find dry clothes to change into. It's not healthy to stay in these wet clothes."

"What, or else we'll catch a cold?"

Ludwig corrected him calmly, "We'll get infections that might kill us without proper treatment." He heard Lovino choke beside him, and looked over questioningly.

In answer, Lovino muttered, "Something caught in my throat."

Ludwig's stare stayed on him for an uneasy moment longer, trying to figure out what that meant and if he should be concerned. Lovino turned away, breaking the moment. Ludwig didn't look away, although he was eerily aware that something had passed between them. He wasn't sure what.

Ludwig cleared his throat. "We should go find the others," he echoed his previous statement, as if it wasn't already clear. He slid off the car hood, leaving a smear of water behind where he'd been sitting, reluctantly returning to the water that he thought he would drown in during a moment of panic. He slowly waded out into the water, skirting around the deeper parts where his boots started to sink and plunge. After a few feet, he realized that Lovino hadn't followed him. He looked back, raising an eyebrow. Lovino was still sitting on the car. He didn't even bother repeating their current goal for the third time in a row, just staring.

Lovino looked nervous. But, at his own pace, he wriggled to the edge of the car, and dropped with a splash, sinking his boots in the water. Lovino shuddered, standing as straight as he could to keep as much of himself out of the water as possible. Probably walking on his tiptoes. Although, the both of them were already soaked to the bone. Bits of silt muted the colors of their clothes. They'd both fallen in that water.

Eventually, Lovino caught up to Ludwig. The process wasn't easy to watch, in Ludwig's opinion. He didn't look away, ready to dash to the rescue should Lovino stumble and fall over. Each time Lovino stumbled, accidentally stepping into a dip in the parking lot, Ludwig tensed up.

"I hate all this water," Lovino grumbled when he arrived at Ludwig's side, standing so close they were almost touching. Ludwig was sure it was just to follow the safe route he found. Lovino was the smaller of the two, after all.

Lovino was strangely quiet throughout the walk, and didn't protest at all when Ludwig directed the shorter to safer, more shallow routes through the parking lot. He started to lag behind, and Ludwig obligingly slowed down, although he was wary of spending too much time out in the sun.

Ludwig glanced up, shielding his eyes from the sun. At the clothes store, their neighbors had thought it more important for them to build up defenses instead of going out gathering resources. This was the longest they'd been outside since the day they found the clothes store. With no sunscreen. Their clothes - the ones above the waist, anyway - would dry out the longer they walked around in the sun. Last night's rain clouds had dissipated, leaving no sign that they'd been there except for the extra few inches of water.

"Carry me."

The trek had been quiet, leaving him to mull in his thoughts. The sudden demand caught Ludwig off guard. "Pardon?"

Lovino huffed. "You heard me. I'm not taking another step in this gross water. Either you carry me, or you can haul ass back to Antonio and Natalya by yourself."

"But…" He struggled for a response. "…carry you?" He would've been fine if Lovino asked for just a break, although there was the constant thought of sun exposure. Lovino was already clambering onto a car.

"Well?" Lovino asked, impatient. "What's it going to be?"

Ludwig waded through the water, over to the car, and held his hands out awkwardly. How old were they, again? Then again, neither had complained about the flee from the fabric store.

Lovino sighed, long and drawn-out to show his annoyance. "No, idiot, on your back. Turn around," he directed.

Ludwig was confused, but did so anyway. His confusion compounded as he felt hands grab at his shoulders, and Lovino's torso settled against his back. A piggyback ride. He hooked his arms under Lovino's legs when they wrapped around his waist, cringing at the water that seeped through his clothes once more, the slimy river water trickling down his back and pants.

They said nothing. Nothing needed to be said. Or maybe there was, but the awkward positioning stunned them both into silence.

Their brush with death seemed so distant. If he let his eyes unfocus, and his attention drift back to a dark hobby store surrounded by dirty yarn and mold, then he could hear the groaning screams and those unnatural limbs lurching out…

"Hey."

Hands grabbed at his face, sticking fingers in his mouth and nose, poking and pulling to get his attention.

With a start, Ludwig realized his grip on Lovino's legs were slipping. He rectified that, and restored his focus to the ground under the water with a sigh. "I know…"

Endless water. The walk took longer than on their way to the fabric store, although that was maybe because Ludwig walked slower this time, taking mind of his precious cargo. It took time, but it was still traveling.

The parking lot they'd left Antonio and Natalya at was eerily empty. Ludwig didn't think he'd ever get used to the quiet stillness. None of the cars had budged. Denson stood stock still. As if nothing lurked inside.

Too quiet. Ludwig tried to shrug off the feeling.

"Antonio!" he called out, which earned him a scolding for being too loud. "Natalya!"

Quiet.

No one peeked out from behind any cars or bushes. When rings bounded out among the bleak water, a bird flew out moments later.

Lovino huffed, right in Ludwig's ear. "Where is that idiot? We said we'd be back."

"I don't think they're here, Lovino."

He walked over to an abandoned car. The hood looked low enough to reach without gaining a layer of muddy water. He turned around, and slowly backed up to it. "You can get off here, it's dry."

The words were barely out of his mouth when the car alarm went off, shrieking sirens and honks into the empty air.

Both of them yelped in surprise. Lovino scrambled back up Ludwig's back, boots scraping for purchase against his skin. Ludwig bolted.

If there was one thing they'd learned over these weeks without the need for cramped classrooms, it was that any noise was dangerous.

Ludwig just hoped their lost friends had found somewhere safe and quiet. Then again, he hoped everyone found somewhere safe in this hell-stricken county.


	21. The Seed of Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: guns, kidnapping, new characters, Antonio's POV, abusive language (ableism, sexism, swears, etc), implied sexual abuse.
> 
> We have some actual villains on our hands.

Gooey Ashes

Guns.

At first, Antonio hoped it was Ludwig's gun, brought out in a flash of panic at a dark shadow. But Ludwig wouldn't shoot off several shots without being sure he wasn't about to kill an innocent fuzzy critter, and his gun probably didn't even have that many bullets in it in the first place. There was always a stop and reload at some point.

He and Natalya looked around, looking both ways down the road in a safe habit from elementary school. As the gun sounds continued, it became clear they couldn't stay put. They snatched up their bags, and Antonio scrambled off the car, doing his best not to make much splashing noise in the attempt to hide. To his chagrin, Natalya was lagging, taking her sweet time to dismount from the car.

The two tried to minimize splashes as they rushed to hide, hopping like frightened bunnies. With everything submerged in water, and all buildings potential zombie-filled hazards, good hiding spots were scarce.

Antonio hopped and slipped into a small section of green space overrun by previously-immaculately-trimmed bushes. Instead, debris and muck stuck in the twisting leaves and branches, making Antonio shiver as he tried to duck in, shielding his cooler from sight as best he could. He hadn't opened it up yet, but he dearly hoped that not much water had seeped in, and that Ludwig hadn't cracked any of the bottles when he'd dropped it out the building. His pants and jacket caught on metal pieces and branches sticking out of the bushes. He stayed as still as a statue, ignoring some hard thing digging into his back.

He peered out of the bushes, moving his head just slightly to try to get a good look of the outside. Where was Natalya? He watched for the splashes of water, and saw her hair sweep in a flicker as she climbed into the back seat of a minivan. Her face disappeared behind tinted windows. Antonio let his face relax into a grin. She'd be safe, then.

The guns died off, and another sound started up. They didn't move, Antonio stilling his breathe to see what was to come.

Splashes. And the roar of an engine, heavy enough to carry a large load.

A giant van, almost a truck, roared into view, the only movement in the water-streaked horizon. It splashed through the streets, bopping up and down, driving around cars and over cars, the monster tires taking drenched grass and metal terrain the same. It made so much noise, Antonio was amazed no zombies were running out to tackle the thing. It was like a beacon.

Antonio stared as the monster of a car came closer, and prayed it wouldn't stop in this parking lot - but the van slowed, enough that one of the doors swung open, flapping like a bird's wing. Swearing split the engine in the air, a man grabbing for the door with a roll of camouflage-patterned duct tape. Duct tape of all colors covered the windows in large X's, no matter if they were cracked or not.

Antonio double-checked his hiding spot, making sure he and his cooler were sufficiently hidden. It didn't matter; they hadn't seen him. Despite that, they slowed to a stop near his hiding place, and the doors burst open, bombarding the dead world with laughter.

Men jumped out. Antonio stared. Their clothes looks sturdy, durable, stuff that had been hiking and dragged through hard labor and came back with flavor. Nothing like Antonio's store-looted fashion meant to be seen, not worn. Clothes currently gaining holes from being crammed in the bushes.

These men weren't like Antonio's group. They had four men shoved in that van; four, full-grown men with crass, slangy hoots they hollered back and forth in arguing about a car door. Antonio wouldn't turn his eyes away as one of them made a move to punch another. It missed; but that didn't stop another flurry of swears and insults, many of them foreign to Antonio. He thought he'd learned everything out there from American public middle school. Evidently, not all of it.

One of them kicked the door, and there was a clunk as something in the mechanical inside broke. More cuss words - wait, Antonio had to focus on the words. He couldn't make many of them out, but he thought it almost sounded like heavily accented speech. Or maybe just more swearing. He couldn't tell.

Someone burped, with a few reactions except someone else warning, "Don't throw up in my van."

"Not your van," grumbled an uneasy voice, likely a bit nauseous.

"As of three days ago, it's my van, and I'm not about to let someone vomit all over my baby."

"Wouldn't be a problem if someone drove a little smoother."

"I can't help it if the roads are fucking covered in water and scrap metal!"

They were arguing. Antonio gathered that much. They didn't sound much like the students at his high school, so they must've been from somewhere else. He wasn't sure if he could pick out all the differences of English, since he wasn't as fluent as his friends, but he thought he heard different accents, each person using just enough distinctive pronunciations in their style.

The arguing continued for a few minutes, until one of them exclaimed, "Hey! Look at this I found. A beaut, ain't she?"

That was…southern? Maybe African American. It didn't sound like 'correct' English he'd been taught in classes and books. The words all drawled together.

The bumble of academic analysis was crushed under his mind backpedaling to one word. She. Antonio's heart skipped a beat. Had they found Natalya? He tried to peek through the bushes, but they rustled with movement. Had he been braver, he might have stepped out to confront them and demand their intentions.

The arguing stopped. He stilled, thinking he'd been noticed. Antonio heard them splash around, then settle, no doubt gathering together. He heard one of them whistle. "What is a blossoming flower doing here?" one of them asked, which was followed by a muffled punch and a whiny, "Ow…" That voice clicked to a tune, like quick tapping of fingernails on metal.

"What's your name, little lady?" interjected the drawl. "We don't bite."

There was a short period of silence. Then a quiet, "…do you think she's deaf?"

Antonio didn't catch the next few sentences, although he strained his ears to overhear anything. It didn't seem like anything too important, and the volume went up again as they addressed the 'little lady' in question again.

"We saw eye candy like this back at the Kingdom, didn't we? Sweet things getting on their knees for those crazy dudes."

"She looks hurt. Maybe she ran from the military fort. Come with us, we have food and water," the clicking voice cooed.

One of the men snorted in amusement. "Yeah, but it's not like she's going to get any of that."

"Matty, what the fuck?"

The man being questioned didn't immediately answer, and a loud fleshy crack made Antonio wince. Water splashed. Skin flashed through the cracks in the bushes, splashing in the water accompanied with vague grunts marking a struggle. Antonio forced himself to remain still, his hands clenching in fists. Silver hair swept like flowing curtains, and suddenly gathered in another fist, eliciting a shriek.

"Weeks I've been stuck in that testosterone-filled van, and I'm sick of it," this man snapped out, his behavior silencing the other men. "Oh, sure, marry your gun, take a vow of celibacy, claim you're already taken." Mocking, laying out the others' humiliations. No one spoke against him. "Stress is eating at all of us. Jesus fucking Christ, Al, you were shooting bullets like it's the Fourth of July. We just found the easiest way to deal with that."

The splashing had stopped. After a moment, one of the other men mumbled something, and this 'Matty' made a sound of pleased agreement. Boots splashed in water, and something dragged in the water along with them, but they piled into the van. There was a muttered complaint about the tired state of the vehicle.

Antonio tensed as the engines revved up. It screamed in his ears, a discordant opposition to the typical silence of the days, along with his heart thumping in his ears. He heard the van roar through the water, and bump with its load. Antonio peeked out through the bushes first, watching them leave. Then he stumbled out, tearing past the cage of branches, and his boots plunged into water. His breath caught in his throat. Then a name tore free, and he called out, "Natalya!"

He ran through the water, hopping across a few parts, heading to the car he'd seen Natalya disappear into before the duct tape van arrived. The front door hung open, and he pushed his way inside, craning his neck to see over the seats. Alas, she was gone. The quiet doll-like girl had disappeared into thin air. Or, Antonio's mind inevitably followed, she'd disappeared into a van full of older guys he didn't know.

Antonio didn't give up. He pulled out of the van, and checked more cars nearby, but all turned out empty. No Natalya.

A curse escaped him, clunky in its non-native English. "Shit."

Glancing around, the dull ache in his head buzzing at a growing paranoia, Antonio's eyes flicked to everything that seemed to move. While he would put up more of a fight than Natalya, that didn't make him feel like he'd be able to stand up against more than one attacker. He started to climb up the van Natalya had hidden in, getting to a higher vantage point from which to check the surrounding area. Nothing. But that didn't mean he was safe. If Natalya made one peep about him or the others, those guys might return. They might even try to haul away Antonio.

If he had a bit of time… Maybe a gun or even a knife… A little bit of bravery… He might have had some chance to save Natalya. Didn't matter if he survived the attempt; he already had a death sentence hanging over his head. Would he go out in a comatose whimper, or with a bang? That, at least, was one decision he had to make.

With a gulp, Antonio lowered himself back to the water. He didn't have a clue how to wire a car. But while he had no car to speed across the roads, he still had two working legs and the advantage of surprise.

With that thought in mind, he started to run.


	22. Wishing Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: Lovino's cursing, pills, germano, nudity, chemicals

Gooey Ashes

Finding shelter from the sun had turned into an adventure. When the things that wanted to kill them hid away from the sun, they had to be discriminatory of what buildings they ducked into. Any place with a wide open door was rejected. They also rejected restaurants as a whole, although that they had more to fear from those places than just zombies. Food didn't keep for weeks with no refrigeration. Better to keep away from any enclosed storage of rotting food, even stuff sealed in walk-in freezers.

Instead, Ludwig and Lovino decided to take their chances with residential areas. If they could get to any, that was. Cars cluttered the roads, water flooded the street and grassy curb, and getting places by walking had not been a common pastime of those who used to live here, the region designed for a populace of cars. Walking would take a while.

When they spotted a building in mid-construction, Ludwig nearly wept in gratitude. A sign proclaiming the future company had been torn down at one point, buried under layers of silt and water. They didn't bother to dig it up. It now served as a relief from the mud and mushy grass that sucked at their boots. The construction company, on the other hand, had plastered their logo all over the construction site in blue and white, coating the mass of plywood that was the incomplete building.

No matter who left their mark on the site, the two teens were relieved to escape the sun. Noon was in full swing, sun beating down on them with no cloud cover. At least, they assumed it was noon, both lacking working phones or watches.

"Do you have sunscreen in that bag?"

They placed their bags on the floor of the second floor. While a wall was missing, it was dry enough, and surprisingly sturdy for looking so unfinished.

"No. I don't burn, I'm already tan. You're looking kind of pink."

Ludwig sighed, pulling off his boots. Lovino kicked his own boots into a corner. The sun hadn't completely dried them off, and they both wanted out of their slimy clothes. "We need sunscreen if we're going to keep walking, but the others are probably headed to Francis's house." Lovino didn't offer any comment, so he continued, "I'll check Gilbert's bag in a moment. I know he picked up some books from the bookstore. I think they're soaked through, though." He stopped to peel off his few layers of shirts, grimacing as they shucked off his skin. He glanced over to find Lovino had froze, staring at him. After a few seconds, Lovino blinked, and then colored red in a deep blush, turning around.

"You should take off your clothes," Ludwig pointed out, assuming Lovino was just bashful about nudity, although they'd been living in close quarters with the others for weeks now. "We need to get dry. And if I find sunscreen, you should put some on, too. Just because you have dark skin doesn't mean you can't sunburn. We have to spend as much of today as we can traveling."

Lovino shook his head. "Yeah, uh." He cleared his throat. "Good idea." He fumbled and started pulling his shirt off slowly, but that response was good enough for Ludwig.

He hesitated at pulling his own pants off, but pushed away his bashfulness. It was just the two of them here, after all. Nobody else around to judge him. Still, he couldn't bring himself to eschew his boxers. He'd dry off regardless. Ludwig sat down on a tarp, pulling the two bags toward himself. One for himself, one for his brother. He steeled himself for any grief, but surprisingly, he felt nothing as he opened the bag, and stared at the soaked contents.

A few water bottles. He pulled them out, then started pulling everything else out, one by one. Water bottles. Granola bars. Cans of food. Two survival books, which surprisingly weren't that damaged by the water. Bandages, antiseptic, antibiotic ointment. A kitchen knife. Socks. A few balled-up pairs of boxers. That brought an amused smile to his face. He threw a pair over his shoulder to Lovino, then stood to change. He never thought something like clean underwear would make him so happy.

He didn't check on Lovino, already absorbed in looking through Gilbert's backpack. He tossed a few scraps of trash to the side, but kept the small knife nearby. Gilbert hadn't brought anything sentimental, except maybe the hard caramels. Ludwig knew Gilbert liked them, but they weren't terribly precious. If he wanted something to remember Gilbert by, his choices were sticky candies that could be precious calories, or a utility knife. The knife would last longer and be of important use in crafting, Ludwig reflected, rolling it over in his hands. A hard plastic sheath covered the blade. If he could keep it from getting rusty. He'd have to actively think about it as Gilbert's lasting memory, though.

"Did you find anything?" Lovino sat beside him on the tarp, the clean boxers hanging off his hips, a little too big on him.

"No sunscreen."

"We could find some umbrellas. Or we could put on enough clothes top cover our skin," Lovino suggested, but Ludwig could see he didn't have any serious faith in the idea of blocking out the sun. Actually, he tried to avoid looking at Ludwig at all. Lovino poked at one of the wet books. "It's nearly fall, anyway. It'll get cold just in this evening."

Ludwig nodded. "That means we'll have to go inside. To find clothes. Dry ones, at least."

Lovino sighed, but it was more like a growl. "I wish we had a fire. Would help a lot in drying off."

"And our clothes. Lovino, I don't think we should start a fire in a building made of wood."

"Wasn't suggesting it. I'm not that stupid."

Ludwig sighed. "Sorry. I'm tired from all that happened today. We have to find the others, and we can't get separated before that." He eyed Lovino with a pointed glare. "Which means no wandering alone. I'm not going to judge you for anything. Privacy could be dangerous right now."

Lovino scowled, but didn't protest. "We're leaving as soon as our clothes are dry. I don't want to be here when night falls."

"We need a plan of action," Ludwig pointed out. "For finding more clothes and sunscreen." As well as shelter, but that went unspoken.

Lovino shrugged. "I don't know; throw rocks at some windows and see if anything happens. It's not like anything will run out at us. We know they don't like the sun."

Ludwig blinked. He had to admit, that was a pretty good idea. "…we might just do that," he said, but didn't promise anything. "Hopefully we'll be able to find a watch that isn't waterlogged, as well."

Lovino flicked a ball of wet paper at Ludwig, hitting his nose. The edges of the books were too far gone to be safely dried out. "You sound so formal. There's no teachers around, loosen up."

Ludwig shrugged uncomfortably, but didn't reply.

\------

"Fuck. Everything."

Lovino paced along that thin hall between rails and stores, his growling scraping at Ludwig's skull. "Fuck this, fuck that, fuck everything! What's the fucking point in sleeping during the night, if those fuckers are just going to eat us in our sleep!?"

Ludwig rubbed his head, pressing his forehead into the cool metal of the rail. He stared down at the floor below them just over the rails, the coin fountains cycling through water, the gentle waterfalls no match for Lovino's volume. Another fountain was just down the hall on the same floor as them, but not as big.

They had found a mall to escape in to get away from the sun, expecting to find all sorts of nooks and crannies to hide away in for the night. Once they realized that also meant plenty of nooks and crannies for zombies to hide in, then Lovino had found cause to complain and yell at the sky.

"Why don't we just sleep during the day, become nocturnal like those fuckers?" Lovino continued, his arms waving in violent gestures as he ranted. "But no! We'd never get anything done, never find any food, and huddle in fear and shit in our beds-"

"Lovino," Ludwig cut him off. "Please. I have a headache." If he was anything like his 'brother', he dreaded the insistence on helping with the headache as much as he could, but it would have been preferable to this griping.

Instead, Lovino shot him a fierce glare. "Headache?" he scoffed. "Fuck off, I've had nothing but headaches since Toni dragged me into this mess! Do you realize how much we've been switching from all this stress? That comes with a painful side effect, you know!"

No, he hadn't realized. Ludwig shook his head, wisely staying silent. Everything had been overwhelming, one little thing he wasn't watching had been swallowed up, he supposed, lost in the sea of other priorities. "Apologies. I didn't know." He felt an honest burden, deep grievance over something he should have been watching, regret that it had been missed.

Lovino snorted. Grim humor, Ludwig supposed. They'd all experienced a touch of that in this morbid situation. That, or his apology sounded way too academic and formal for Lovino's crass attitude.

The tumbling brook of the wishing well was mesmerizing, finally without any cursing distractions. Ludwig wondered how many tiny dogs had lapped at the coin-stained water before being shoved back in glittering purses. How many toddlers had stuck sticky fingers in to catch a flash of shiny metal. He could imagine teenagers who spat chewed gum, cotton candy pink and blueberry blue, to join the copper and nickel. But as Lovino placed a battered water bottle to the trickling artificial brook, Ludwig sighed.

It was in no way sanitary, but this water held fewer diseases than the water drowning the streets. Ludwig dug in his bag, and pulled out more bottles to fill. They should have filled up at the bathroom sinks, but all the bathrooms in the mall were tucked away, hidden behind corners down dark hallways. Where the light didn't touch. As soon as they left the safety of the skylights above, they were easy prey, Ludwig reflected, glancing to a darkened window of a store, something slimy moving within.

"We should find somewhere to hide," Ludwig said, tearing his eyes away from the store. "For the night."

"Why bother? It's not dark out yet, and we'll get pounced on as soon as we leave the light." Lovino scowled. "We'll just die anyways."

"It might get cloudy at any minute. There's no forecast anymore to tell us otherwise," Ludwig pointed out, tucking the bottles away to start searching.

The place they ultimately found wasn't the coziest. Lovino objected, Ludwig objected, but they both reluctantly agreed it was the best choice. No matter what Lovino said, from the way he rushed in at the slightest creak, Ludwig knew he didn't actually have much problem with it after all.

"We're going to die in a broom closet," Lovino moaned.

"It's a janitor's closet," Ludwig corrected, removing some of the more fragrant bottles of cleaning solution.

Lovino pulled a face and made gagging noises. "Don't remind me." He poked a chemical bottle with his shoe, slowly and inefficiently nudging it further away from himself.

"I doubt the fumes will kill us in our sleep over only one night," Ludwig pointed out, although he didn't have any official research to back up that claim. A few of these bottles warned to avoid contact with skin. No one ever slept among a mass of cleaning chemicals like this, after all. It wasn't a common hobby that he knew of.

"What if we get stuck inside this broom closet?" Ludwig didn't correct him for a second time. "What if the door jams and we can't get out? What if they open the door while we sleep? What if it's cloudy tomorrow and they fill the entire mall? We'd have to stay in there until it's sunny again. What if-"

"Lovino. That's enough."

Ludwig's voice shook, which was probably a factor in Lovino's sudden silence. He sighed, but didn't turn away from his work emptying the closet. "I'm scared too, Lovino. I know. Please don't say things like that. This is the best option we have. Even if we can get out of this mall before dark, we'd still have to find somewhere to spend the night."

After a moment, he added, "We can look for the others in the morning."

He heard Lovino shuffle around, but, he huffed and said, "We could've found some pillows, at least."

"Maybe there's some benches or couches around," Ludwig suggested, giving Lovino something to do. He didn't turn around, but the kicking of plastic bottles stopped, and he didn't hear another word out of the other student. Finally, he turned around, bucket of lemon chemical water in his hands, to find Lovino has disappeared. Relief washed over him; while he didn't like the thought of either of them being alone in these conditions, Lovino was no longer feeding his fears.

Ludwig took the bucket out of the closet, hauling it away. Once he reached the rail, he peered over, just in case. The ground floor of the mall was woefully unoccupied, albeit covered in litter and moldy super pretzels. Maybe not so unoccupied, Ludwig noted with a shudder, noticing little specks skittering through the trash. The smell wasn't overly noxious, but then again, he had a bucket of cleaning chemicals right under his nose. He hefted it up to the rail, and poured the lemon water disinfectant over, to flood the cockroaches below in a chemical tsunami.

Ludwig held his breath. He dropped the bucket on the floor, splashing himself with the water droplets, and let it roll away. Then he resumed breathing, and grimaced. His hands would be carrying that smell around for a good while. Although, considering that amount of chemicals in that closet, he might not even notice the state of his hands. They would be choking on fumes all night.

In an effort to keep his mind off of the bad, worse, and worst aspects of this situation, he threw himself into clearing the closet to make it more hospitable to two sleeping humans. There was a time limit on this task; it wasn't like he could wait until tomorrow to clear out the rat poison in the back.

Whittling away the time, Ludwig's clothes dried to a chaffing stiff the more he worked. Each time a wisp of cloud or dark shadow drifted over the skylights, Ludwig's throat crowded with tension. He waited, just continuing to haul chemicals and toilet paper, looking this way and that. When nothing ran out screeching, and the clouds passed, Ludwig allowed himself to breathe.

Most of all, he worried about Lovino and Feliciano. Time was passing, and he hadn't seen Lovino in ages. He might have just gotten distracted. Maybe. He might have wandered into a nest of zombies like at that fabric store - no, no. Ludwig shook his head. No, he would have heard something echo in the mall from here. It was with dread that another option came to mind. Ludwig hadn't yet talked with Lovino about responsible drug use. So many side effects… Lovino could be passed out on the floor somewhere. If Ludwig didn't reach him before dark-

"I found some blankets."

Ludwig's heart skipped a beat, whirling around to see Lovino dragging a collection of blankets and cushions toward the janitor's closet.

"Lovino!" Ludwig dropped a roll of toilet paper, and pulled Lovino into a tight hug. The Italian immediately protested, struggling and spluttering. "Thank God! I thought you were dead!"

"Y-yeah, well, I'm not! I'm not dead!"

Ludwig's nerves and relief weren't yet settled, but he released Lovino, stepping away to give him room to breath. He turned away, blushing.

Just as Ludwig opened his mouth to apologize, Lovino blurted out, "Dammit! Warn me before you do something like that! You reek of chemicals."

Ludwig looked up, and found Lovino had also turned away, also with a blush, despite the scowl. Ludwig noted that Lovino hadn't explicitly told him not to hug him again by surprise. "Anyway, it's not like I was gone for long. Don't get so dramatic." Lovino turned to gesture up to the skylight, and paused. Ludwig looked up as well, the colors of the sky slowly shifting as sunset approached. Judging from previous experiences, they had a little under an hour to get themselves locked up in safety.

"Lovino," he started with a sigh. While his relief was palpable, he also had a prime opportunity for The Talk. He gulped. "What drugs are you taking?"

Lovino's head jerked up, eyes mapping out wide, with more spluttering. "What? What kind of question is that?"

Ludwig held his hands in surrender. Sound might be a cause for worry, when terrors could be hiding behind the darkened display windows of every store nearby.

"I just want to know what kind of side effects you're experiencing-"

"Who says I'm getting side effects?" Lovino demanded. "What- who says I'm even taking drugs!"

Ludwig noted uneasily that he raised his own voice in response. "I can hear the pills in your bag, Lovino."

"Don't say my name like that! What if they're just painkillers, huh? What if it's Antonio's medicine?"

"Antonio's insulin comes in liquid form, not pills," Ludwig corrected. This was apparently the wrong thing to say, judging how Lovino grit his teeth.

"What if they're mine, bastard?" Lovino had an endless amount of shouting in him. "Have you thought of that? That I need to take stuff for my problems?"

"You're not prescribed anything," Ludwig dismissed. He would have known about it within those first few days, when they refused to leave each others' sights.

"You don't know that! Shut up."

Ludwig frowned. "But-" He stopped himself, and then lied through his teeth, "Antonio told me. You're taking pills you haven't been prescribed." It was risky, but he couldn't just tell Lovino that he eavesdropped on him and Antonio at that restaurant.

Lovino froze, and Ludwig watched as his expression shifted through a series of emotions and surprise. "He told you?" The anger had lessened from his voice, although now it was aimed at Antonio. "That bastard! He's always on about safe spaces and right to privacy, and he then he goes and tells you about this?"

"He's…he's just looking out for you," Ludwig muttered. Lying wasn't something he did often. This, regardless of intentions, felt like a conversation he was intruding on. He'd inserted himself into this situation, and unfortunately, his social skills weren't up to par. He'd never been good at socializing. "Don't blame Antonio for this…"

The apology was the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated. That gave Lovino time to snap back, "Fuck off! You're not even supposed to know!"

Ludwig clapped his hands on his shoulders, preventing Lovino from turning and running out of sight again. It was too late in the evening to get separated again.

"It's nearly sunset. We have pillows-"

"Cushions."

"Ah-" Ludwig stumbled over the correction. Did it really matter? "Yes, we have cushions and blankets for comfort, our packs still have some food left, and we have a bucket in the corner, for…yeah." He didn't really need to complete that thought. It was an awkward thing that neither wanted to address, years of prudish ideas driven into them about bodily functions.

Lovino made a sound in the back of his throat. "Whatever. Just use that potted plant over there before I'm stuck with you for twelve hours in a small space." Ludwig followed the direction of the gesture, and tensed a little, seeing a potted plant just barely in a shady corner of the mall. It looked like it had flourished, despite the lack of human attention. Was Nature taking back the world? When he approached it, he realized it was plastic, dust caked on its slick leaves. The apocalypse came for everything, human or otherwise.

Lovino ignored him, vanishing into the janitor's closet.

"Viel Glück, Gil," Ludwig whispered. He didn't give up hope on his brother. Couldn't. They all needed all the luck they could get for another night. If this continued, only plastic would be left of the human race.


	23. Muted Rust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: gross smells, trash/rot, bugs, zombies, blood, character death, guns, gotta love cliffhangers

Gooey Ashes

A shower of lemon chemical perfume. Ludwig walked down the linoleum hallways, the floors shiny and squeaky from the janitor's rounds. A bundle of books and notebooks took up the space in Ludwig's arms. Biology, anatomy, history… He'd forgotten his French homework, but the Bad Touch Trio had chosen his locker as the perfect place to loiter and laugh, and he felt like silence was a preferable reprieve after a class turned noisy by distracted classmates.

While the heavy load in his arms was a comforting weight and gave him a sense of purpose, it struck him as wrong. As strangely unfamiliar. As if the shield of studiousness no longer belonged to him.

His feet followed a well-known route to the library on automatic. Left turn here, right turn there, straight ahead, the laminated motivational posters turning into a glossy blur to delineate his path.

The walk never went anywhere. He knew these halls, knew the batches of beat-up lockers, but today the standard route seemed to take hours. One hallway after another, with no end in sight. He tried to count how many turns he made, but lost track past the third, his mind always wandering. He slowed to glance at a room number, starting to be unsure of where he was in the school. The number plate danced in his vision, and when he pulled away, he couldn't place exactly what numbers he'd just seen. The floors shined.

Something flashed in front of Ludwig, a blink of an hour, a second. Recognition came slow, but once he recognized the figure at the end of the hallway, Ludwig broke into a run.

"Lovino!"

The name rang between Ludwig's ears and all around him, but it never reached Lovino. The student walked around the corner and out of sight, his face turned away.

Ludwig called out again. The hallway extended as he ran, increasing with lockers and rooms as if it went on forever, but he couldn't imagine the hallway being any other way. The hallway just was. It didn't matter that he found it impossible to focus on one door or another. Finally, he turned the corner, just in time to see Lovino turn yet another corner.

The textbooks and notebooks had disappeared from his arms. Ludwig didn't give the disappearance much thought. He had Lovino to worry about. Slowly, the hallways changed, becoming shorter, more defined with scuffs and patches of cracked paint. He recognized this path, and it didn't lead to the library. What would Lovino want with the music room?

Ludwig stopped, a rumbling groan freezing him in place. The panels of fluorescent light lining the ceiling flickered, and went out, leaving the natural light from the windows for Ludwig to see by.

The music room. Ludwig picked up his feet, and started walking again, his shoes feeling slick on the lemon floor. Lovino hadn't been the one to bring him to the music room. "Gil?"

The name didn't echo. Something swallowed it.

A Nokia phone lied discarded on the floor, carelessly dropped at the foot of a batch of lockers. Swallowing, Ludwig looked up, turning his gaze farther down the hallway. To the music room. Blood splattered the floor. It sprayed on the floor and wall in stark lines that dripped, holding his hand to lead his attention back to…

Ludwig felt sick. The lemon chemical smell morphed into a cloying sweet smell. Bugs and rot filled his nose. No metallic blood stench. Only rot, as if the body had been there for weeks.

But Gilbert hadn't died here. They'd both escaped. Ludwig had been there. Here. A narrow escape, but they came out with all four limbs and working hearts nonetheless.

The body shouldn't have been Gilbert's. Yet the white hair tantalized him with its mimicry. Red eyes stared up into nothing. Ludwig should have stepped closer, knelt down to close his brother's eyes. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. That would mean stepping in the blood that pooled around Gilbert's head and stained his hair. A gun lied just outside of the pool of blood, Ludwig almost missing it, the muted rust coating making it blend in with the blood. He tried not to look at it.

The music room finally caught his attention, duct tape welding it shut, that eerily familiar graffiti splattered over it all. A music stand fell over inside, clanging on the floor as if it was the only thing in there. Ludwig knew better. He knew that room held occupants. He took a slow step back.

"Hey, Ludwig!"

Ludwig whirled around, this time hearing running down the hall. The lights flickered, and he blinked as they flashed back to life.

As soon as Ludwig looked up, Lovino had disappeared. Must be around another corner. He almost cursed, before noticing the distinct lack of blood around him. Gilbert's body and the gun had joined in on the disappearing act. No matter how long he stared, the floor remained spotless. Streaks across the shine announced the janitor had come through recently.

"Ludwig?"

He jolted, looking up. The door to the music room was pristine, freshly cleaned with that cloying lemon cleaner, no sign of duct tape or warnings. Instead, the doors were wide open, beckoning. Ludwig stepped inside, the room brightly lit.

The choir teacher smiled at him. "You're late, but I'll let this one slide. You've never been late before, after all."

Ludwig stared for a long moment. His classmates sat there in three rows, circling the front board like for every choir class. A few looked up at the distraction standing stock still in the doorway, but most were bored out of their minds like always, doodling on folders and making lackluster attempts to hide phones and text messages.

"Ludwig, are you okay? Is something wrong?"

He hadn't heard his choir teacher in weeks, and suddenly, it was as if he'd seen her just yesterday. Just another school day.

"I…" Ludwig found his voice, but it sounded different. "I was just…" Distant. Like his voice echoed from another part of the room, from another mouth. He wasn't sure if his own mouth was even moving. Without giving an excuse, he turned and ran, his shoes squeaking on the floor.

The choir teacher called his name in surprise, and the sound reached him in a haze. He knew he was running, but it felt more like swimming.

"Lovino!"

The name bounced off the walls and lockers. Faces flashed across the windows. Ghosts shouted in whispers from classrooms.

Ludwig wasn't sure how he knew this was Lovino, or why he knew. It could have been Feliciano. Two different faces giggled from the ceiling lights.

"Ludwig!"

Lovino's voice echoed all around him.

A burning pain struck his cheek, and suddenly Lovino was in front of him. Ludwig blinked, his eyes sticky with sleep. Lovino scowled, their faces inches apart.

Wait, what?

A dying flashlight lit up their faces. Ludwig opened his mouth, but Lovino clapped a hand over it.

"Shut up," he hissed. Bugs skittered outside, crunching and crawling endlessly. "You're not allowed to sleep anymore. You keep talking."

It took Ludwig a long time for is brain to catch up. In the meantime, he wisely stayed silent as directed, letting Lovino whisper their situation, his breath tickling his ear. Apparently, according to Lovino, he'd been talking in his sleep. Which wasn't the best habit to have when they were trying to hide from the horrors blocked off by only by a flimsy door. Not too flimsy, in this case. Something strong and claw-like latched on to the outside of the door and dragged down, creating a kind of screeching that made both Lovino and Ludwig grit their teeth.

Once it was over, Ludwig took a deep breath. He almost gagged, and covered his mouth and nose, Lovino taking away his own hand.

The chemical lemon smell was still there, as well as the smell of rot and other unpleasant smells he refrained from putting names to. Waves of nausea assaulted him as the smell brought back scenes from his dream, the image of Gilbert with a bullet through his head returning unbidden. He wished that this Lovino would make those images disappear, just like dream-Lovino had done.

They stayed awake until morning, when the noises finally eased away. Although it all left ringing in their ears, making it difficult to tell that the things outside had gone to sleep.

The only way to tell that it was morning was by the thin sliver of light that feathered under the crack of the door. Turning on a flashlight was too much of a risk just to check their watches.

Cautious, Ludwig opened the door a crack, and blinked in the dim lighting. But they could see by it, and persisted, opening the door fully and stepping out of chemical lemon fragrance and into wet rot. The mall looked like it had gained another layer of grime overnight. The gunk from the floor below seemed as if it had migrated up to their level.

Ludwig stepped out slowly, taking care to avoid anything that looked particularly squishy or crunchy. Anything lying in the mess of filth and black food could stand up and attack at any moment if given even the smallest bit of provocation. Any dark shadow could skitter out or come rushing at them. Ludwig wasn't taking any chances.

He checked his watch, angling his arm to read it in the dim light. Early, but late enough that the sun should have been giving more light than what was present. He kept glancing up, making sure nothing would attack them.

Lovino lagged behind, having stayed put in the janitors closet until he was sure Ludwig wasn't about to be eaten, and making sure he himself wouldn't end up as dessert. Considering they both reeked of lemony chemicals, Ludwig wasn't sure either of them would be very appetizing. Then again, thinking back on the refuse around this place, the label of appetizing might stick as long as they were human.

No words were exchanged. They stepped carefully. Any wayward crunch or squish was cause for them to freeze, and rapidly look around, searching to see if they had disturbed anything.

Ludwig looked back to Lovino, and pointed off to a big department store at the end of the line of stores. The exit. Lovino hesitated, then nodded. Ludwig didn't blame him; the haphazard shelves and clothing displays would provide ample cover for anything hiding from the light.

Regardless, they tip-toed through the department store, around broken glass and muddy footprints. The posters and shelves that had once sparkled now seemed dim, dusty with no light beaming from the ceiling and no employees to dust off exposed surfaces. Surprisingly, some of the displays, with prominent names displayed on large signs above, were stripped bare, stolen by raiders and robbers. The jewelry and watch displays, as expected, had been turned into masses of broken glass, scraps of velvet padding, and twisted metal. Stripped of stuff that would have fetched fair prices at a pawn shop. That was, if anyone cared about designer clothing or fancy watches anymore. Ludwig's stomach felt empty underneath the nausea. Grocery stores weren't likely to restock anytime soon.

Ludwig snatched packs of socks and underwear as they passed flash displays that hadn't fallen over yet, sneaking them into his bag with crinkles of slippery plastic. Lovino kept a lookout, pistol in hand. Ludwig tried not to think about why he had the gun, after all this chaos, after the scuffle in the clothes shop that felt like just yesterday. It meant that Gilbert somewhere out there had no gun, only a crowbar. He wasn't sure that a crowbar would be enough to protect someone against an epidemic.

A wave of rot washed over them. Ludwig stopped in his tracks, a ball of socks in hand. Lovino was slow to respond, but stopped as well. A crunch, and Lovino lifted shaking hands, clutching the gun. It was too late that Ludwig realized the one problem with using a gun in this environment; the noise.

Like something in a horror movie, a gray mass trudged out from behind a selection of bras, moving on to another lingerie aisle, the two terrified teens invisible. But Lovino was not so blind.

The gunshot was deafening. Ludwig felt his ears ringing, and while he couldn't hear the cry or moan from the creature, he saw it recoil, the tattered clothes and tattered flesh making any bullet hole blend in. It bent backwards, then forwards, creating a hunch. One of the arms had fallen off at some point, just a red polo sleeve flopping about.

Another shot blasted the air, knocking back both the thing and Lovino, but not the other gray faces that suddenly stared at them from every corner. Lovino grabbed his arm - or maybe he grabbed Lovino's? - and then they were running.

It felt like another dream. Swimming, swimming, price tags flashing past, colors making his mind spin. Instead of cleaning chemicals burning his lungs, it was the adrenaline and lack of oxygen. Stopping once again held the threat of losing a friend, of being faced with death.

One minute they were running, and then they weren't. Ludwig didn't understand at first, his mind filled with fear and flight and why had they stopped? But he no longer felt anything solid under his boots. Lovino screamed. Stairs and frozen escalators filled his vision. A sickening crunch broke through the ringing in his ears and the gurgling screams.

He wished Lovino would slap him again and complain about his sleep habits.


	24. Dazed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content: injury, dissociation, germano feels

Gooey Ashes

The world came to a jarring crash. Ludwig lay paralyzed for a moment, fire engulfing his body, vision going black from the shock. A cry cut through the haze. Reluctantly, Ludwig lifted his head, the buzzing white noise in the background rising into a cacophony of groans and grunts. Something clattered on the floor. 

Lovino, where was Lovino? Ludwig looked around, forgetting for a moment where he was. Then his eyes landed on a limp form on the floor beside him. He grabbed at it, then the gun lying on the floor, feeling a pressing urgency despite struggling to make the connection between the body and the gun. Then Ludwig ran. 

He had never been one to come often to the mall, but Gilbert occasionally came to the building to hang out with Francis and Antonio. Francis always knew just where the clothing stores debuted the newest designs. Ludwig wasn’t sure if he was following old patterns to head toward those hot spots; all he knew was that he was running for his life. 

It took him a moment to realize that Lovino was being dragged instead of racing along behind him. It took a glance, but then Ludwig’s eyes widened in realization. With a hectic curse passing his lips, he stopped, and hefted him up, carrying his friend’s unconscious body. Then he did all that he could at that moment: run.

Gray arms sprung forth from all sides. Something slimy grazed his legs. Screams, hisses, howls, and groans echoed around, a din that replaced the pop music that once poured from speakers in this store. 

He burst out the open doors, out into fresh air and bright light. To his horror, the sun was hiding, gray clouds filling the air. Worse, the howling didn’t stop. His boots splashed in water. More splashes echoed behind him. Ludwig reached the first car in the parking lot, and allowed himself to make a huge mistake. He looked back.

Like ants out of an anthill, the gray things streamed out the doors of the mall, stumbling towards him faster than they should have in their slimy, deteriorating conditions. Scrambling, Ludwig lifted up the gun in a moment of panic, and pulled the trigger.

The recoil stunned him, but the bullet stunned the zombie for longer. Ludwig scrambled to make sure that he wasn’t about to drop Lovino, and forced himself to stomp deeper into the water, farther into the parking lot. It might have been easier and safer to get on top of the cars, but he didn’t have time to do that, not with Lovino in his arms like some helpless sleeping beauty. Water seeped into his boots, wasting no time filling up his socks and climbing up his trousers. He had picked up new boots from last evening in their exploration of the mall, and with the help of parking lot water, they were going to become a breeding ground for bacteria and fungus. 

Ludwig stopped once he felt he’d gone far enough, and turned to check on the zombies’ progress. They had slowed in the sunlight, and most turned around, fleeing back in to the safety of the shadows of the clothes store. Some, to Ludwig’s horror, collapsed in the deeper sections of water. The water burbled and gurgled, a hand lifted, then dropped, and then stilled. 

Once it was safe, Ludwig checked the doors of a few cars until he came to an unlocked car. He laid Lovino down in the backseat before gingerly checking over him, that sickening crack from before echoing in his memory. 

All his brother’s claims of him being a doctor came to life right then in that car. If Lovino had a concussion, internal bleeding, or a broken limb, it was up to Ludwig to take care of him. There were no hospitals to go to. There were no trained adults he could ask for help. He had to find where the break was. 

He carefully combed through Lovino’s hair, searching for bruises or any blood. Blushing, he even lifted up Lovino’s shirt, checking for discoloration to mark a bruise or internal injury. Nothing, but that just meant he had to keep searching. He set the gun to the side, shoving it into the pocket of the back of a seat in the car. He winced as his rough treatment with the gun, but his hands were shaky; ginger handling didn’t extend past how he handled Lovino right then. 

It was with great reluctance that he wriggled Lovino’s pants down. He had to check everywhere, after all. Just to make sure everything was okay. After some unnecessary staring and a thoroughly red face, he pulled Lovino’s pants up again. He coughed, and moved on to checking over the other parts of the body. Looked healthy enough. Nothing unusual.

Ludwig kept glancing up to those wide open doors of the mall. The automatic doors no longer worked, leaving them open to the elements. As well as open for anyone to invite themselves in. Glassy eyes stared out at them, pinpricks in the shadowed store. Ludwig turned his head away again, struggling to convince himself that was just his imagination. 

He slowly went down each arm. Pressing gently, feeling for any broken bone or an out-of-place joint, starting from the shoulder. At least, he hoped there were no broken bones, but he couldn’t stop replaying that ‘crack’ from their fall over and over in his head. As he reached each hand, Ludwig felt the worry fall away, slowly reassuring himself that maybe nothing was wrong, that Lovino might have escaped the mall in one piece. Well, two pieces mentally, but the body was still intact. Then his hope plummeted into a pit of despair, reaching Lovino’s left hand. 

Ludwig’s hands shook after discovering the broken appendage, Lovino’s finger bending at an angle that made him pale. But he dug in Lovino’s red bag, and pulled out a package, new, shiny plastic, a stiff foam splint inside. The hard plastic was sealed shut, forcing him to pull out Gilbert’s knife. He sawed at the plastic, wincing. This knife badly needed sharpening. Once he had it free of its plastic cage, Ludwig closely followed the directions on the back to strap it tight to Lovino’s finger. 

But one tiny finger couldn’t have been that loud crack. He had to keep checking. Ludwig hadn’t wanted to risk moving Lovino. Even if the only injury was a broken finger, too many worries bounded through his mind: what if Lovino actually was hurt more than just a finger? What if he’d missed something? The guilt would have been too much. He wasn’t sure how to check for a concussion or spinal injury while Lovino was asleep. He was pretty sure Lovino’s spine and neck were fine, but beyond moving to the car, he wanted to wait. He just hoped that Lovino woke up before sundown, Ludwig thought, glancing over to the mall again. If Lovino woke up at all. 

Ludwig shivered at the thought. He shoved it away, staring off across the parking lot instead. For the time being, he kept an eye out, guarding Lovino from the safe shade of the van. A noise caught Ludwig’s attention, and he turned around in time to see Lovino sitting up.

“My head hurts…” 

The complaint spurred Ludwig to action. He hurried to Lovino’s side, reaching out to help him sit up slowly. “Careful,” he cautioned. “You took a bad fall, Lovino. No, don’t do that -- your finger is broken.”

He had to grab Lovino’s wrist to stop him from aggravating the injury. Lovino stared blearily at his hand and the splint on it, blinking as if it would vanish if he just woke up enough.

“I’m not Lovi,” he mumbled, broken by a yawn. Ludwig looked at him strangely, keeping a firm grip on his wrist. Lovino wasn’t Lovino? They didn’t have time for this; time was ticking. They needed to find fortified shelter. “I’m Feliciano.”

It honestly took Ludwig a moment to remember what that meant. “Feliciano,” he repeated, dazed by the unexpected switch. “Right… Are you in any pain?” Ludwig tried to move past that, brushing aside the confusing parts. His heart ached, but he wasn’t sure why.

“No,” Feliciano replied, his voice shifting around to find that higher pitch, the accent rounding out. “Nothing. My head hurts, but I’m sure that’ll go away soon. Why would I be in pain?”

“No, no, no, don’t move so fast,” Ludwig was quick to jump up, to keep Feliciano from standing up too fast. He needed more hands for this task. “You might have a concussion.”

Feliciano laughed, making Ludwig’s eyes go wide in concern. “It’s okay, Luddy, it’s a switch headache! Lovi and I are fine.”

Ludwig frowned, but loosened his grip. “What happened to Lovino? Why did you switch?” He vaguely recalled Lovino berating him for not asking questions, but he still inwardly cringed at his crass, rushed questions. 

Feliciano shrugged, ruining his hopes for a clear and concise explanation. “Sometimes a switch just happens.” He looked around, allowing Ludwig to keep his wrist still. “Where’s Toni and Gil?”

Ludwig froze, and let go of Feliciano’s wrist with a choking sound. Feliciano took that chance to examine the foam splint on his finger held together by rubber bands, wiggling his hand experimentally.

“You can’t…feel that?” Ludwig asked, feeling dizzy. Maybe he was just dehydrated. Their morning had been rather hectic… “Your finger is broken. You fell one story and passed out.”

Feliciano looked up, surprised. “Really? I don’t feel anything. I feel kind of floaty, though.”

“...floaty?” Ludwig wasn’t sure what to make of that response.

“Yeah.” Feliciano didn’t elaborate.

Ludwig cleared his throat. “Alright, then. But tell me if it starts to hurt.” He was pretty sure they had painkillers. It was a miracle that none of them had gotten hurt more than a few scrapes before this. Except for Gilbert. 

“We have to get moving.” Ludwig stood up, grabbing the run before Feliciano had any bright ideas about holding on it, stepping into the water of the parking lot. There went his new socks, filling with clammy water again. Hoping to avoid more damage than what had already been done, he clambered onto the car next to the van. “If we stay to the tops of cars, we can avoid getting soaked until we reach higher ground,” he explained. “Then we can find shelter. The mall isn’t safe--”

“What happened to Toni and Gil? And Natalya?”

Ludwig’s mouth felt dry. He tried not to think on it, answering with, “We got separated.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

Clambering from car to car wasn’t the fastest mode of transportation. It certainly was a workout. For the first few cars, they climbed, stretching from one car to the next, scuffing windows and grabbing onto what edges they could, until Ludwig had the bright idea to jump to the next one. It risked injury if he didn’t make it, if he hit a leg against the window… 

But it turned out fine. Amazed, he turned to glance back, expecting Lovino to berate him for such a dangerous stunt. Instead, he was met with glistening awe.

“That was amazing!” Feliciano gushed. Then he stilled, and asked nervously, “Do I have to do that, too? I don’t think I can do that, I’m not strong like you…”

It was the same face, but the expression was all wrong, and the personality was nothing of the one he’d gotten to know over the past few weeks in close quarters. Ludwig stared, as if that face would morph into the Lovino he knew if he just waited long enough. But it didn’t change. Nothing about this god-forsaken apocalypse changed. 

Feliciano continued fretting, slowly getting to his feet on the car’s roof, and wobbled, nearly losing his balance. He cried, whirling his arms around in big circles, desperately struggling for balance.

Ludwig’s eyes widened. He barely had enough time to make a leap for the next car before Feliciano came barreling towards him. After a moment of crying and panicking, kicking and clawing at the car’s roof for stability, Feliciano calmed down enough to take stock of himself. 

“I’m…alive!” Then he jumped up, and waved at Ludwig with a smile that had never seen a dark night. “Hey, Luddy! Look! I did it, I made it across!”

“...yeah,” Ludwig said, a little breathless. “You did it.” He readied himself to jump again before Feliciano had the bright idea to join him. Again. He readied himself, bent his knees, and sprang to the next car roof.

The car buckled under his weight, and Ludwig held his breath, feeling and hearing the car squeal and bounce underneath, until it came to a stop, returning to its original position. He breathed out an audible sigh. Then the car alarm went off. 

Feliciano yelped, and Ludwig heard a splash over the blaring alarm. The sound slammed into his eardrums after so many days of quiet. Ludwig caught himself wondering if car alarms had always been so loud. But he didn’t waste long thinking. Nothing good came from something that loud. 

Ludwig landed with a splash, and he quickly stepped away, nearly just making a run for it. But he resisted that urge, his hand going to his side where the gun was, looking to Feliciano, looking out for any zombies creeping out from the mall.

His thoughts came to a screeching halt, realizing he’d considered, even for a moment, that he could defend himself in such a way. The gun suddenly felt boiling hot against his hand. He grabbed Feliciano, and pulled him into his arms, picking him up. They could always run. Run, and never look back.

In retrospect, this got them both to higher ground faster than if they’d continued the dangerous idea of jumping from car to car. They did, however, end up significantly more soaked than the other idea. Ludwig slowed once they were far enough away from the blaring car, on dry, albeit waterlogged, ground. But he didn’t stop. He kept going, leaving the car behind, its alarm blaring, not willing to stop to check if anything had actually run out to jump on the noise after all. Feliciano clung tight to him, shaking in whatever fear had consumed Ludwig.

Ludwig’s fleeing slowed down to a walk. Something tugged at his sleeve. It took a few seconds of confusion before he heard Lovino’s voice; “Ludwig? Lu~dwi~g?” 

Ludwig looked down, suddenly remembering his passenger. Same face, same voice…but not Lovino.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized, stopping to set Feliciano down, their boots squelching with sodden socks and hungry mud. “I got a little too caught up in getting up to dry ground…” He coughed nervously, but Feliciano wasn’t paying any attention. The Italian was looking all around, gazing far and wide in every direction. 

“Wow, we walked all this way from that little store with the attic?” A sense of dread started to bubble up in Ludwig’s stomach. Feliciano just laughed. “I bet Lovi complained the whole way!”

“Feliciano,” Ludwig began, but Feliciano started humming, skipping along the deserted road, trying to balance on the dry, elevated curb. Ludwig faltered, and started walking as well. He struggled on how to broach the topic. Now, he wished he had eavesdropped on Antonio more often, heard the whispered conversations that always followed one of these switches. 

“Feliciano,” he began again, “How much do you remember?”

“Dunno,” he chirped. “It’s fuzzy.”

How could anyone be so cheerful with an answer like that..? He almost preferred Lovino’s complaining and cursing. At least he’d been starting to understand all the grumbles and insults. It was nothing short of surreal to see Lovino’s face and body acting like this. So…cheery. Without a care in the world.

“So you…” Ludwig struggled to understand. “…remember Denson, and staying the night there, but not anything after that? What about the fabric store? Do you remember staying the night at the mall? Taking medication?”

“Not really,” was the immediate, chirpy reply. 

Ludwig sighed and was about to prompt for an extended answer when Feliciano went on; “I remember staying in that clothes shop with Emma, Abel, Alistair, and we left with Natalya. I don’t remember much after we all fell asleep at that little store.” Ludwig caught a glimpse of a frown on his face. “My head hurts when I try to remember anything after that. I know that Lovi is scared, but that’s it.”

Ludwig didn’t press for much more, although he itched for more information. “He said that you two were constantly switching back at the mall…”

He trailed off, but Feliciano just shrugged. “I don’t remember the mall.”

Ludwig’s brow furrowed, staring at Feliciano with a deep frown. His serious thinking was interrupted by a squeal from the object of his attention.

“What’s wrong?” Ludwig tensed up, suddenly on high alert, his hand straying to the gun hanging from his belt loop.

“I really, really need to pee!”

Ludwig gaped, deflating. He buried his face in his hands as Feliciano dashed over to an over-watered, dying bush. He’d almost been ready to throw off his pacifist beliefs and take out the gun. Again. 

It wasn’t even nearing sundown. Ludwig thought that he’d stopped thinking about the zombies as sick humans who needed their help, but, for a brief moment, he’d been ready to shoot a human just as easily as he had shot that zombie in the mall. It had been long enough since the beginning of all this for it to be clear to him that zombies only came out at night. Barring a few exceptions: from experience, he knew they could stand a bare few seconds of sunlight. Cloudy days, apparently, had enough sunlight to keep them hidden away.

Where did the peace go? His own father had been in the army, and although reluctant, had accepted his son’s objection to anything to do with war. He took Gilbert to the firing range, and left Ludwig alone to read. Ludwig objected to the draft, to fighting, to guns… And yet he had one firearm at his hip. He’d fired the trigger. Twice. And now he was willing, or at least some part of him was willing, to shoot down any stranger who threatened their peace.

“Luddy?” Ludwig looked down at Feliciano, who seemed to have taken a turn from his cheerful disposition, instead crying. “You told me to tell you when my hand hurt, and my hand hurts now.”

Ludwig stared. That was a delayed reaction if he’d ever seen one. He hastened to comfort the smaller teen, although he wasn’t that familiar with the social skills required in this situation. “It’s okay, we have painkillers… Try not to move your hand too much, okay?”

He took Lovino’s -- now Feliciano’s -- pack and set it on the dry curb, digging through it and came out with the prize of a bottle of generic, store-brand ibuprofen. It was an over-the-counter kind, but it was probably best to start out with low strength. He didn’t want anything that would make Feliciano overly drowsy, not when they expected to be walking for several hours more. Although, maybe not so long, Ludwig thought, his eyes straying to look out to all the scattered buildings left behind by capitalism. They certainly had their pick of fast food chains, car washes, and nail salons. One or two furniture stores. 

“Here.” After prying off the airtight seal, Ludwig shook out two red tablets. “Take these. They should take care of your pain for the next few hours.” That was a wild exaggeration for that tiny dose, but Ludwig was hoping for a placebo effect, and that Feliciano didn’t take this stuff regularly enough to tell that he was stretching the truth. Feliciano didn’t have the bottle and its fine print in front of him, and didn’t grab it to check when Ludwig dropped it back in the bag, to his relief. He just swallowed the pills with a few coughs, and grappled for the water bottle. As he chirped words of gratitude and chattered about how great it was to have him along in the zombie apocalypse, Ludwig couldn’t help but think that Feliciano wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box. 

They continued walking. Ludwig’s plan had apparently worked; Feliciano was back to balancing on the curb like a tightrope, humming some inane song over and over again. Ludwig kept an eye on the time and the buildings around them, as well as the road signs they passed. 

He wasn’t exactly much more than a brother of a friend to Francis, but he’d gone along with his brother on drives, enough to have a pretty good idea of where Francis lived. Eventually, they would see the buildings fall away to an expanse of woods. After that, they could expect nothing but farmland and the occasional country house with an amazing view. Thankfully it wasn’t a far trip by car, but Ludwig wasn’t sure if either of them were up to the task of walking the entire way in under a day. A store or house before they left the consumerist cluster was their best bet. Survive the night, and continue on tomorrow. 

Even with Feliciano’s humming and the sound of their boots on concrete and road, the ambient quiet unnerved Ludwig. A bird landed on a lamppost. He broke the silence with a question.

“What, ah… What about your family?” Wonderful icebreaker, Ludwig. Great time to remind them both about dead relatives. In an instant, he regretted opening his mouth at all, and he hoped that by some miracle, Feliciano hadn’t heard him speak. He knew, had seen, Antonio’s thoughts on the Fernandez family. He didn’t want to see those same emotions on Lovino’s face.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Unfortunately, Feliciano had heard him loud and clear.

“Your family,” Ludwig reluctantly clarified, feeling as if he was digging his own grave. Or well, struggled to clarify. “Who did you leave behind?” He cringed; what a terrible way to ask about those who had died under their noses, leaving them to survive. Ludwig held his breath, waiting for some breakdown of grief or despair, or some reminiscing about never getting to taste that a relative’s cooking again, but it never came.

“Oh, that. Just my grandfather.”

That took him off guard. “...what do you mean by ‘just’?” he asked, none too suspiciously.

Feliciano shrugged. “My parents are in Italy. I don’t see them too often, since I live here in the States with my grandfather.” Ludwig couldn’t help but notice the singular pronoun. “I’m pretty sure he was home on the day that Lovi went on that date with Toni.”

Ludwig nearly choked on his own saliva on that last note. “Date?” he coughed out, wondering why he felt so disappointed at that information. He could have slapped himself -- that wasn’t the information he should have been focusing on! Their grandfather was likely dead! But Feliciano giggled, taking no offense. 

“Yeah! Toni really dotes on Lovi! He’s Lovi’s only friend, but I think he has a second friend now!”

Ludwig was confused, but a blush quickly overtook his face as the realization hit home. “Of course…”

Feliciano waved it off with another laugh, making a prickle go down Ludwig’s spine. “I haven’t called anyone since all this started.” For the first time that day, Ludwig heard sadness in Feliciano’s voice. “But now all our phones don’t work. Italy is probably fine, though. This whole zombie thing might just be in our state, after all. Italy’s a whole ocean away!”

Ludwig nodded, having had similar thoughts, although their brief encounter with the military made him hesitate. The government had given up on any survivors. That could have been a rouge part of the military, but somehow, Ludwig doubted that was the real story. Even so, a quarantine was a reasonable response to a zombie outbreak. Even so, he was surprised that no suited-up doctors had tried to make contact. Ludwig couldn’t blame them, curse his forgiving nature, not with nighttime becoming the deathtrap that it was. 

“Toni’s extended family is in Spain, and they’re probably fine, too,” Feliciano went on. “Once we get out of this, I might get to move back to Europe, and with Toni, too. Do you think that you and Gilbert will move back to Germany?”

Yet again, Ludwig had expected some amount of grief, and yet again, Feliciano surprised him. Ludwig was speechless, and somehow managed to mumble a reply; “My father was my - our - only close relative. Gilbert and I haven’t had much contact with our extended relatives in Germany for years.”

He rubbed the back of his head, sudden;y nervous about his words when Feliciano took so many unexpected figurative turns. “I mean, Gilbert and I are army brats -- that is, our father was stationed in Germany and met our mother in Berlin…” He coughed, feeling as if the fall day was unnaturally warm. “Both families thought it was a strange union.” His eyes fell to the ground. The flood had given gifts of silt and sodden sticks, but had also left behind scraps of plastic wrappers. “Our father and us two are seen as the black sheep of the family.”

“Oh.”

Ludwig grimaced at the pity soon to come, but, sure enough, Feliciano again defied expectations. 

“Maybe when this is all over, you and Gilbert can come to Italy with me, and then you wouldn’t be left without any family!”

“That’s…very kind of you,” he considered carefully. He dreaded having to talk to Feliciano about Gilbert’s disappearance. “But I’d like to continue my education in America. My father left behind plenty to last me through college on my own…” If the rest of America hadn’t been taken by this disease. With how it devastated their county here, it wouldn’t take long to spread to other parts of the state, or to nearby states, carried by panic-stricken people searching for refuge, carrying the disease on their clothes and in every ignored tickle of the throat. That was with the idea that their county had even been point zero for the infection. ”…but I might like a friend nearby if I decide to attend medical school in Germany.”

Feliciano cheered, jumping for joy, and slipped from the curb with a yelp, stumbling on to the road. Ludwig sighed. Why were they even talking about this, and in such a blithe manner? His mind was whirling with disaster scenarios, and here Feliciano was making plans for continuing their lives in Europe, forgetting all of the loss that happened here. Well, he couldn’t fault the kid for being optimistic.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted to FanFiction.net.
> 
> Planned main characters (in no particular order): Ludwig, Alfred, Natalya, Gilbert, Antonio, Lovino, Feliciano.


End file.
